An Overwhelming Loss
by maigonokaze
Summary: Alternate Ending to 5.4 "Loss." When Zapata makes bail, he wants revenge against Alex. He abducts and imprisons Alex and Olivia both, subjecting them to rape and torture. In the months and years that follow their rescue (in chapter 26), Alex and Olivia struggle to cope with what happened and to rebuild their lives. Eventual AO romance. WARNING: GRAPHIC RAPE/ABUSE. ADULT EYES ONLY
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Law and Order SVU belongs to Dick Wolf. I stand to make no monetary or other gain from this work of fiction.

**Warning: **Lots of rape and torture ahead.

**Canon Notes: **This story takes place as an alternate ending to 5.4 "Loss," in October of 2003. So, basically pretend everything after that in the series hasn't happened yet. It's a very long story, though, and will tie in with the official canon wherever possible.

**Romances:** This will eventually morph from AO friendship to an AO romance. However, as those who have read my stories before know, I am never nice to my characters. So don't be expecting tender kisses and cuddling on the couch. The road ahead for both Olivia and Alex is very difficult.

* * *

><p>"You can't threaten me, bitch." Zapata's voice was thick with scorn.<p>

"I just did," Alex replied.

"You allow this?" Zapata directed the question toward his lawyer. "A woman says these things and you do nothing?"

"Yes, Mr. Zapata." Alex stood. "You will also find that that a woman can say whatever she wants about your performance in the bedroom and you aren't actually allowed to kill her."

Zapata leapt to his feet and charged at her. The defense lawyer acted quickly, shoving the table aside to pin his client against the wall while Alex stumbled back. The burning hatred in Zapata's eyes seared into her.

Alex was frozen as Zapata was escorted out of the office.

* * *

><p>Donovan caught up with Alex, Elliot, and Olivia in the courthouse hallway. "Ms. Cabot, we've received a credible threat."<p>

"It didn't come from us; we have kept your identity confidential," Alex said.

"The threat was made against you."

Alex listened, stunned, to the two men on the tape. They referred to her as one of the men's girlfriends, that he was coming to 'visit' her.

"_I'm going to go pick her up, maybe this week."_

"_Alright. She's living at 235 W. 78th, apartment "C" like Charlie. Gets home around 8."_

"That's my address…" Alex spoke over the voices on the tape.

"_What are her mornings like?" The tape continued_

"_She jogs at 6. You could go jogging with her in Central Park."_

"_I was thinking I could visit her mother."_

"_That's an idea. Mom lives upstate, East Amherst. But you should really try to see your girlfriend. It's important."_

* * *

><p><strong>October 14, 2003<strong>

Alex, Olivia, and Elliot walked out of the bar together. It had been a long day and Alex knew they were all ready to go home. There was no justice for Livia Sandoval and Zapata would walk free based on his testimony against Velez. _Sometimes, _Alex thought as they stepped up onto the street level, _sometimes I just can't stand the way the legal system works._

None of them saw the black sedan pulling around the corner. The first shot echoed in the quiet street and Olivia whirled around, shoving Alex down against the pavement. Olivia had always heard people say that a shooting happened in the blink of an eye, that they couldn't even remember what was going on. Olivia saw everything; she felt everything as a bullet crashed into her shoulder. She stumbled and fell back against the building behind her. Alex was on the ground, not moving. Olivia felt a second bullet connect with her ribs. She dropped to her knees and fell forward. One hand went to her ribcage while the other held her off the pavement. She couldn't feel anything and was gasping for breath. Olivia wondered if this was what it felt like to die.

Elliot was a few paces to her right. She could see blood spilling out around him. "Elliot," she whispered as she tried to crawl toward him. As soon as Olivia tried to move forward, her body gave out and she collapsed onto the pavement. Her eyelids were closing, even as she fought to keep them open. Alex was no more than a foot in front of her. Olivia reached forward, her fingertips barely brushed against Alex's shoulder.

It hurt to breathe. She could hear a car door open and could see at least two pairs of feet stepped out onto the pavement. Olivia's eyes closed.

* * *

><p><strong>October 15, 2003<strong>

Olivia had somehow expected that hell, if there really was a hell, would be worse than this. It was pitch-black and her body ached. She couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything, and couldn't move. She could taste the iron tang of blood in her mouth. And she could feel the rough cotton gag between her lips. Olivia's eyes shot open, but then closed again immediately as she thought the sudden light would blind her and rip her skull apart. She tried again, gradually raising her eyelids in increments and peering out through the lashes as her vision adjusted.

_Alex!_ Olivia grunted against the gag when she saw the blonde District Attorney. Alex appeared to be still passed out. Olivia's eyes scanned over her, searching for signs of the bullet wound. She knew that she had heard the gunshot and that Alex had already gone limp when Olivia had turned to try to push her back into safety. There was no sign of the wound. Olivia looked down at her own chest. She felt like she had been trampled by a herd of elephants, but there was no hole in her shoulder or anywhere else.

Olivia shook her head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. That slight movement jarred painfully and her head throbbed. _Probably just a concussion_, Olivia told herself. She straightened up a bit in her seat and started to look around, trying to gauge the situation.

They were in a large, rectangular room with concrete walls on three sides. The fourth side was a chain-link fence that ran from floor to ceiling and was connected to thick steel supports. There was a door in one corner of the chain-link wall; it was padlocked securely shut. Bright, industrial lights hung overhead. The ceiling was at least 25ft high and the lights hung down to at least 7 feet below that. Giant fans turned lazily overhead, scooping the air down and providing the only motion in the room.

Alex was tied to the chain-link wall. Her arms were tied up over her head, supporting her unconscious weight. Her legs were tied at shoulder-width apart, but with enough slack that she could move a little to support herself once she regained consciousness. Another line snaked around her neck, pinning her back against the fence. Olivia worried that it could be restricting her airflow as her limp weight dangled against it.

Olivia herself was handcuffed to a thick wooden chair. Her hands were cuffed to the bars at the back and her ankles tied to the front legs. She tried wiggling to see if there was any give, but could barely move. Her fingers were numb and she could tell that the handcuffs were cutting circulation. The chair was positioned about halfway down one of the concrete walls. The chain-link wall was on her right, with the door on the far side.

About three feet to Olivia's left was a queen-sized bed. In the far back corner, there was a shower stall with a privacy barrier that only came to waist-height. Also in the bathroom area was a toilet and sink. They all looked as though the area had not been cleaned in years. Directly across from Olivia was a kitchenette. It was nothing more than a single shelf with cabinets underneath, a mini-fridge, and a microwave. Apart from these sparse furnishings, the room was empty.

* * *

><p><strong>October 15, 2003<strong>

Elliot woke up in a hospital bed. He could hear the steady beeping of the machines that surrounded him. There was an oxygen mask over his face and he could feel the IV tubes running along his arm. Pain was radiating out from somewhere in his lower abdomen on the left side. He lifted his head up, trying to look around. The pain that shot through him as his abdominal muscles tightened was nearly unbearable. He let his head fall back on the pillow.

Two men came and stood over his bed. Elliot looked up at them with blurry eyes; his head was swimming from trying to sit up. He saw the Marshall badges pinned to their coat lapels.

Elliot reached up a hand and pulled the oxygen mask aside. "What's going on?" he asked hoarsely. "Where's my family? Are Olivia and Alex alright?"

"Detective Stabler, I am Agent Gates, this is Agent Vann with the US Marshall Service. Last night you were hit in a drive-by shooting, most likely arranged by Velez's men. Officially, you were killed. The Cartel is serious about coming after you. The only way we can keep you alive is if you agree to stay dead and come into the Witness Protection Program."

Elliot felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. "My family," he whispered.

"Your wife and children can come with you, if that is what you want. We have other Marshalls bringing them here, presumably to identify your body." The Marshall paused before continuing, "Right now, you are dead and the Cartel really has no more reason to come after you. If your whole family disappears, they will know that you have all gone into Witness Protection. We can keep you all safe, but you need to know that there is an added risk for you and your family to stay together."

"I understand. What about the other two women who were with me when I was shot – Detective Benson and ADA Cabot?"

The Marshall shook his head. "There was no sign of them at the scene when the first responders arrived. It appears they were abducted by Velez's agents."

"No." Elliot's whisper was mangled as he tried to grasp what they were telling him. "No, no, that can't… that's not…" His mind was racing. "_How?_"

"One of the buildings down the street had security cameras that caught part of what was happening. It looks like they were both hit with something like a rubber bullet or a tranq dart. They were both knocked out. Two men got out and loaded them in the vehicle. The security cameras didn't get a clear shot of the vehicle, but local detectives are working on finding them."

After a few more questions, Elliot asked the Marshalls to leave. They told him it would probably be about an hour before his family arrived. Elliot nodded silently and waited for them to leave. The weight of what they had told him came crashing down on him. _Olivia is gone. Alex is gone. I have to disappear. Oh God, oh God…_

Without even thinking about it, his mouth began to move, to form the words that had been a comfort to him from his earliest days. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of our death. Amen… Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…"

He repeated the prayer over and over again, slowly falling into the security of the words, until a knock at the door interrupted him.

Kathy appeared in the doorway. The Marshalls stood behind her as she stepped slowly into the room. "We'll give you two a minute," one of the Marshalls said as he swung the door closed.

"Kathy," Elliot breathed.

"Elliot," Kathy was stunned. Her eyes were red and bloodshot from crying, her face was haggard with worry. "You're alive." She stepped toward him slowly. "But you were dead – they told me you were dead?"

"I'm sorry, Kath." The words caught in Elliot's throat. They looked at each other for another heartbeat and then Kathy ran the rest of the distance to him. She leaned over to hug him and his one arm that was not strapped down by the IV line came up to wrap around her. Kathy sobbed against his chest. He stroked her hair, feeling his own tears welling to the surface but stubbornly keeping them at bay. "I'm so sorry, Kathy. I never thought it would get this bad."

Kathy pulled back a little and reached behind her to find a chair. She sat right next to him, holding his hand in both of hers. "What happened?"

Elliot took a deep breath. There had been precious few times that he had talked to her about any of his cases. He had always tried, as much as possible, to keep the evil he saw at work away from his family. "We caught a rape/murder case. She was the girlfriend of a lieutenant in a Columbian drug cartel. We started looking into it and it looked for a while like we were actually going to be able to make a case against him. There were threats made against Alex Cabot – that's why I was working such long hours the last few days. Liv and I were rotating out protective detail in addition to our regular caseload. We ended up having to drop the case after they killed our witness. The Feds got him on different charges. We thought that was the end of it. We weren't going after them anymore; there was no _reason_ for them to still come after Alex."

His voice caught. "I didn't even see them coming. I heard gunfire. I turned around and saw Alex go down. Olivia was trying to shield her. Then they hit me and I went down. I couldn't move." Kathy lifted his hand and pressed it to her cheek, not sure of what she could do or say to comfort her husband. "I could hear more gunshots. I heard Olivia. And then… nothing. Until I woke up here and the Marshalls told me I was dead."

He looked at his wife. His voice was more serious than she had ever heard from him, "Kathy, I have to disappear. I have to stay dead. If the cartel knew I was alive, they would go after you and the kids. They would go after my mom, after your family. These people are serious and they will not stop."

"Elliot, what do we do?" Her voice was surprisingly steady. He had been worried about how she would take it.

"Witness Protection. We have two options." Elliot glanced to the door, where the Marshalls waited outside. "The first option was put into play while I was unconscious. Everyone was told that I was dead. Right now, as far as the cartel knows, I'm dead and the problem's solved. There is no reason for them to come after me or our family. With this plan, I go into WitSec and you and the kids act as if I were dead."

"The second option is for the family to go. You and the kids and I would be relocated to another city in another state. We would get new jobs in completely different fields. We would all get new names and new identities. There would be a price on our heads – for all of us. We would not be able to contact our families or anyone from our lives here."

Kathy folded her arms on the side of the bed and rested her head on them, staring t the floor as tears slowly trickled down her face. "What do you want to do?" she asked slowly. It was a choice between losing her husband or keeping her family together and ripping her children away from their lives to place them in a world of constant danger, where they would live looking over their shoulders.

Elliot reached over and brushed his hand down her face. She lifted her head to look up at him. "Kathy, I love you." His thumb ran over her lower lip and he could feel the tremble in her breathing. "I want our family to stay together. I want to be with you and see our children grow up. But I love you and I love our children more than my life. So more than anything else, I want you to be safe. There's a target on my back and I couldn't live with myself if something happened you or Kathleen or Maureen or Lizzie or Dickie because of me. You will all be safer if we just say that I'm dead."

* * *

><p>It was a long time before Alex stirred. Olivia watched as the other woman slowly came to. Alex groaned as she shifted her weight onto her legs and off her aching arms. Her face was pale and drawn tight with pain, her eyes closed.a<p>

Olivia tried to speak, to let Alex know that she was there. All that emerged past the gag was a strangled jumble of noise, but it was enough. Alex's eyes snapped open and her pure blue gaze met with Olivia's.

"Liv," Alex breathed. "Are you alright?"

Olivia shrugged. She was alive and conscious, so she figured that any injuries she had were not too bad. She nodded her head, gesturing toward Alex as if questioning.

"I'm fine," the blonde replied. "Elliot?"

Olivia looked down. The last time she had seen Elliot, he was flat on the ground and the pool of blood around him was spreading. She shook her head.

"Oh God." Alex's face was stricken with grief. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault… I should've just dropped the case. I knew it was dangerous; everyone tried to warn me…"

Olivia shook her head emphatically. It hurt like hell to move, but she couldn't stand to see Alex blaming herself for their situation. As she shook her head, she caught site of something beyond the chain-link wall: a group of four men were approaching the door. Alex knew that Olivia had seen something; she saw the panic on her friend's face. She tried to turn to the side to look, but could barely move. She heard a lock click open and the sound of a chain sliding over metal.

Zapata strode into the room, flanked by two of his men. A fourth man stood apart from the rest of the group. Zapata placed himself directly in front of Alex. He was wearing grey slacks and a white shirt. He stared at Alex for a moment, carefully rolling up his sleeves as he spoke. "Alexandra… so nice to see you again."

"I wish that I could say the same. Aren't you supposed to be in jail?"

Zapata smirked. "Some well-paid connections decided to lend a helping hand." He leaned in, placing one hand against the chain-link beside her head. His face was only inches from hers. "You weren't very well-behaved the last time we spoke." His other hand went to her waist. He shifted her shirt up and rested the palm of his hand against the bare skin above her hip. "I like my women well-behaved." Alex shivered when she felt his skin touch hers. She wanted to shrink away from him. Zapata stepped in closer; she could feel the heat from her body radiating against her. "Are you going to behave yourself for me now?"


	2. Chapter 2

Alex had always prided herself on her ability to stay calm and keep her head – and her dignity in any situation. As Zapata ran his hand up under her shirt to cup her breast, that resolve was sorely tried.

"Get your hands off of me." Alex's voice was stern and her icy tone betrayed her fear.

Zapata's reaction was immediate. He withdrew his hand from her breast and drew it back. "No woman talks to me like that, bitch!" He slapped her across the face. Alex's head snapped to the side as the angry red handprint appeared against her porcelain skin.

Alex gasped for breath, slack-jawed for a moment as she tried to process what was happening. No one had ever hit her before. She sucked in a deep breath and lifted her chin, turning her head back toward Zapata. A lock of her long hair had fallen across her face and brushed against the marks on her face.

Zapata's cruel eyes drilled into her as he reached a hand out to one of his henchmen behind him. The man grinned at Alex as he withdrew a knife from his belt and handed it to Zapata, handle first. Zapata's fist closed around it and he brought the knife up between his face and Alex's. "You whore," he hissed. "You think you can insult me? You think you can try to put me in prison and not take the consequences?"

Alex's eyes darted to the knife. The blade was at least seven inches long and the serrated edge glistened as the light fractured over it, throwing shadows and glimmers of light against Zapata's face.

He rested the flat of the blade against her cheek. The metal was cool on her hot skin. "You are mine now. I _own_ you." He twisted his wrist slightly so that the edge of the blade danced over her skin. He didn't cut her, but scraped over her flesh, pressing just hard enough that she could feel the threat. The points of the serrated ridges left thin welts behind that streaked across her cheek.

Alex turned her face to the side. Her heart was pounding and she felt trapped as his voice echoed in her ears. _I will not cry, _she told herself firmly. _Cabots do not cry. I will not give this asshole the satisfaction. _

"You will learn to obey me. You will learn to _respect_ me. Or so help me, I will make you wish you had never been born."

Alex closed her eyes. She could feel her heart beating its frantic tattoo against her ribcage. Her breathing was shallow and slow as she fought not to overtly display her fear. She felt him move away from her and then a sudden gust of air struck her as he pulled her shirt out away from her skin. There was a sound of fabric rending as he sawed through her shirt from neckline to hem. She felt the steel tip of the blade slide up the valley between her breasts and felt the sharp jerk as he ripped the knife back, cutting through the underwire of her bra.

Alex tried to imagine she were anywhere else. The noise of the men making obscene comments as her clothes were cut away from her and Olivia's muted protests faded away to a dull buzz, drowned out by the sound of the blood coursing through her temples. She was only vaguely aware as Zapata continued to slice through her clothing, cutting so that the fabric fell away from her body, revealing every inch of her skin to his perusal.

A jarring laugh ripped her back to the present. Alex opened her eyes. The fourth man, who had been standing slightly apart from the rest, had left her and was squatting, hovering on the balls of his feet next to Olivia. The detective was pulling futilely against her bonds, making choked noises of protest. "What's wrong?" he asked softly. "Someone feeling a bit left out?" He laughed again as he reached out to stroke Olivia's face.

Zapata turned away from Alex, momentarily distracted. "Connors, what's that doing here?" he sneered. "I told you to bring me this one; I don't remember saying anything about that bitch cop."

Liam Connors shrugged as he straightened up. "She was there and she was hot. I knew what you wanted that one for," he gestured toward Alex, "and I figured you might like two for the price of one. If you don't like her, you can always get rid of her."

Zapata considered and nodded slowly. "I'm sure I could find some use for the broad. Some of my captains might enjoy her." He walked over to Olivia, his two shadows following right behind him. "What do you think about that?" he asked Olivia. One of his henchmen untied the gag. The dirty cloth fell away from Olivia's lips and she wiggled her jaw, trying to relieve some of the stiffness.

"Fuck you," she spat. Zapata's fist caught her in the solar plexus and she gasped for air. When she lifted her head again, she looked at up at Alex. With the blonde's clothes cut away, it was now easy to see the deep bruise left by the rubber bullet. It had hit her in the cartilage beneath the breastbone. Olivia imagined that she had similar bruises where the bullets had connected with her own body.

"I see this one needs some manners too," Zapata remarked. He looked at Connors. "You want to take her out and teach her some?"

Connors grinned. "It would be my pleasure." He looked down at Olivia. "How 'bout it? Wanna get fucked by the man that killed your partner?"

* * *

><p>The Marshalls entered the room to join Kathy and Elliot. Kathy still sat by her husband's bedside, his hand clutched tightly in her own.<p>

"Have you decided what you want to do?"

Kathy answered for both of them, her eyes on Elliot as she spoke. "The children and I are going to stay here." Her lip trembled slightly, she understood that it would be safer for them to stay where they were but that didn't make the decision any less difficult."

"And you understand that you cannot tell anyone that your husband is still alive? Right now, you are the only person outside the Marshall Service who knows he is still alive."

"I know." Elliot squeezed her hand, wanting to offer what comfort he could.

"And another thing – you may be under surveillance for a while. The cartel has probably already bugged your house, your car, your computer, and your phones. If they hear so much as a hint that Detective Stabler is still alive, they will come after you to get to him."

Elliot struggled to sit up. "Hang on. You didn't say there was any reason for them to suspect anything."

"There isn't. But just in case they have any suspicions, it is better to play on the safe side. So, Mrs. Stabler, you will have to go ahead with the funeral. Don't even tell your children that your husband is alive; it is much harder for children to keep these secrets. Mourn your husband. Don't get anyone reason to doubt that he is dead. If it ever seems like you are in any danger, we will move you and the kids so you can rejoin your husband."

Kathy nodded. Her chest was tightening and she could feel a wave of panic threaten her. Her grip on Elliot's hand was her lifeline as she forced herself to breathe steadily and calm down.

"Kathy," Elliot addressed his wife quietly. She turned to him and he saw the tears that welled in her eyes but did not spill over. "I don't know how long it will be until I can come back or…" he hesitated to say it, "if I ever will be able to come back. I want you to know that…" _Damn, this was harder to say than he thought it would be._ "I understand if you move on. You need to do what is best for you – what is best for our children."

She shook her head as the tears she had been holding back began to roll down her face. "You," she said, her voice too choked to allow any more than that simple word. "Only you."

Elliot brought her hand up and she cradled his face in her hand. He kissed her palm. "Maybe later," he glanced at the Marshalls before continuing, "when it's safe, tell the kids that I'm alive. Tell them I never wanted to leave them, that all I wanted – all I ever wanted – was to keep them safe." His voice was thick with unshed tears. "Tell them I love them."

"Oh, Elliot," Kathy's voice was small and broken. The idea that this was the last time she would see her husband for God-only-knows-how-long was almost more than she could bear.

"I love you," he said and she could feel his breath against her hand. "Never forget that I love you."

* * *

><p>Zapata stepped back, warily keeping away from the scuffle on the floor in front of him. The moment his men had untied Detective Benson, she had come up fighting. It took both of his men and Connors to subdue her again. Finally they had her pinned down on the floor.<p>

Connors re-cuffed her hands behind her back and grabbed a chunk of her hair. "Get up," he commanded. Olivia struggled to her feet as he yanked her upright.

"No, no, no," Olivia panted as he dragged her upright. "Don't… please don't…"

"Move." Connors held her roughly by one arm and shoved her forward. He pushed her toward the door.

Olivia twisted in his grasp, trying to pull away. His fingers dug into her skin, leaving visible bruises. "No, no!"

"Zapata!" Alex called out. "Let her go."

Zapata held up a hand toward Connors and the Irishman paused, Olivia still trapped in his iron grip. He strode over to Alex, stopping directly in front of her. "I know you aren't trying to order me around, Alexandra."

"No," Alex said quietly. "Not ordering, asking." She swallowed hard. "Please. I'm the one you want. Just let her go. Please."

Zapata waved Connors forward. His eyes still on Alex, he grabbed Olivia's arm and pulled her to stand in front of him. Zapata drew his knife and slid it delicately along Olivia's throat. She was tense but did not move. Zapata shuffled in closer to her, pulling her back against his body. He leaned his head in and buried his face in her hair, nuzzling against her. Olivia grimaced at the feel of his hot breath against her skin.

"Alexandra…" Zapata whispered softly against Olivia's neck, "it is your fault that she is here. You want me to let her go? The only way she is leaving here is if she is dead. But…" He kicked Olivia's knees out and she fell hard. He grabbed her by the hair and jerked her head back, baring her neck. Olivia gasped, unable to speak. Zapata smiled up at Alex, his knife pressed to Olivia's throat. "That's your choice."

Olivia's eyes were pleading as she looked up at Alex. "Please," she whispered, "Alex, Please…"

"No," Alex said quietly. "Don't hurt her."

Zapata shoved Olivia to the side and laughed as she hit the floor. "I'm afraid that wasn't one of the options." Connors scooped up Olivia by the arms and dragged her toward the door. Olivia was screaming and her legs flailed against the floor as Connors pulled her away. After a quick glance at Zapata, the two henchmen followed after Connors.

Outside the chain-link wall was just another concrete room. There were at least two side rooms that Olivia could see, but the doors were closed so she couldn't tell what was in them. At the end of the room was a staircase going up, with a thick wooden door at the top of the stairwell.

Connors threw her down on the floor. Olivia took the blow on her shoulder and rolled, trying to get away from him. Connors laughed; with her hands cuffed behind her and the only doors locked, there was no escape. He pounced, grabbing her leg and pulling her back toward him. Olivia kicked out with her free leg and felt his nose crunch when the kick landed.

"You bitch," Connors tightened his grip on her leg, the pain enraging him rather than dissuading him. "You dirty, filthy whore! You're going to pay for that." He pulled her closer, crawling on top of her. Olivia writhed and screamed; Connors smiled even as the blood dripped down his face. "I'm going to fuck you so hard," he whispered. Olivia jerked her knee up and managed to catch him in the balls. He groaned and rolled off of her.

Olivia had just managed to get to her feet when Connors grabbed her again. He seized her by the arm and swung her around, flinging her against the chain-link wall. Olivia crashed into the fence only a foot from where Alex was tied. "No," she whispered; her breath was coming in short pants. Connors pressed up behind her, his fingers clutching the chain link to keep her from pushing away. "No, please…" Olivia sobbed. "Please don't…"

Connors moved one hand down to the front of her pants. He undid the button and slid down the zipper as she bucked against him. "Please no…"

Alex was shaking. She couldn't see what was happening, but she could hear everything. She felt the wall behind her shake when Connors slammed Olivia against it. "Please," she looked at Zapata. "Please, tell me what you want. Just leave her alone."

Zapata shook his head. "Too late for that. But maybe if you're real nice, I'll tell them to go easy on her."

Alex couldn't breathe. Her heart was trapped in her throat. She could hear Connors panting and Olivia's quiet pleas for help. She could feel the movement in the chain-link wall as Connors forced Olivia against it, pinning her with his body while he pushed her pants down. She nodded, unable to speak.

Zapata moved in, reaching a hand behind her head to cradle her neck as his lips sought hers.

Alex closed her eyes. She felt his lips press against her, nipping and sucking. She forced herself to respond, catching his lower lip between hers. His tongue ran along her upper lip, prodding and seeking compliance. Alex responded. Above her head, her numb fingers curled into fists. She felt a ball of fear tighten in her stomach and church into nausea.

"Help me," Olivia whimpered. "Somebody help me…" Connors had managed to strip her pants off of her and was holding himself tight against her. His hands started to roam, slowly covering her body with small caresses.

"I'm going to make sure you remember this," he whispered into her ear as he traced one hand up under her shirt, pushing her bra up to cup her breast. He caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinched, rolling it roughly.

Alex tried to pretend that the lips against hers were soft and their taste sweet. She tried to imagine that the hand cupping the back of her head was delicately entwined in her hair, soothing instead of compelling. It wasn't working. Zapata rocked against her, pressing her back into the chain-link. Alex gasped in pain as her ribs were crushed under his weight. She wondered if the rubber bullet had somehow cracked one of her ribs.

Zapata released her and pulled away. "Not good enough." He stepped away and Alex felt her blood run cold. "Frigid bitch," he muttered. He reached down and unzipped his pants. His eyes went over Alex's shoulders to the scene taking place on the other side of the wall. "If you're not going to be nice, I guess I'll just sit back and take in a show."


	3. Chapter 3

Olivia felt Connors ease away from her just long enough for him to unzip his pants. He held her pinned against the chain-link, and she could feel the lines digging into her skin through her shirt. One of his hands was at the back of her neck, pushing her face against the metal. He kicked her legs apart and anchored his feet inside hers. "I'm going to really enjoy this," he muttered into her ear.

Olivia whimpered. "Please don't. Please don't do this. Please – _Please no!_" She could feel his other hand running between her legs, his shaft encircled by his fist.

He found her entrance and thrust into her. He groaned and let go of Olivia as he moved his hands up to grab onto the chain-link on either side of her head. He pulled against the fence as he moved inside her. "You feel so good," he groaned. "So hot, so tight…"

"No, no, no…" Olivia tried to wriggle to the side, but Connors crushed her into the fence.

"Hmm, that's right. Squirm for me, baby. Move your tight little ass – you know I like it."

"I don't give a damn what you like," Olivia growled. Her arms, handcuffed behind her, were jammed painfully every time he thrust against her. The abuse seemed to go on forever.

Connors thrust against her, grunting softly with every stroke. He disentangled one hand from the fence and seized her by the throat, pulling her back to him so her head fell over his shoulder. He squeezed. Olivia gasped for air, struggling against him. His thrusts sped up, slamming into her so that the _slap-slap_ of his body on hers echoed off the concrete walls.

Black spots danced in front of Olivia's eyes. Her lungs were burning and her limbs felt heavy. Connors shoved into her and held her against him, crushed between his body and the wall. "Ohhh, _fuck!_ he groaned.

When he released her, Olivia fell to the ground, curling her knees up toward her chest. The cool air rushed into her bruised trachea and she wheezed and gasped as her lungs inflated. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she sobbed, her face pressed against the floor. Connors bent down and plucked her underwear up. He lifted it to his nose and breathed deeply. "You smell so sweet," he said as he inhaled her scent. He used her underwear to wipe himself off before zipping up his pants.

He bent down beside her, dangling the dirty underwear over her face. Olivia sobbed harder. "I think I'll keep these as a memento." He tucked her panties into his pocket and then shoved her over onto her stomach. He pulled out the handcuff keys from his pocket and unlocked her wrists.

Olivia rolled away from him. She heard the door in the chain-link fence open and Zapata walked out. "I'll be back for you later, Alexandra." He stepped past Olivia without a second glance.

Connors picked up Olivia's pants and threw them toward her. "Get up." Olivia reached up and grabbed the chain-link; she pulled herself to her feet. She did not lift her eyes as she awkwardly redressed. As soon as she had buttoned her pants, Connors grabbed her by the arm. He pushed her through the doorway and shoved her down onto the ground. "Good-night, detective," Connors mocked. "I hope I can see you again soon."

She listened as they left. The footsteps faded and she heard the door at the top of the stairs close. Olivia staggered to her feet and made her way over to Alex. She untied the ropes at Alex's ankles and then the one that crossed in front of her neck. She noticed a pool of rapidly drying semen running down Alex's leg.

"I'm sorry, Olivia. I'm so sorry," Alex whispered. Her voice was barely audible, even with Olivia's face only inches from hers.

"It doesn't matter," Olivia brushed her off gruffly. She had to stand on tip-toe to reach the ropes that tied Alex's hands. The muscles in her legs were cramping and she tried to ignore the semen leaking down her own legs.

Alex's arms fell as soon as Olivia had the ropes undone. She cradled her arms against her chest as the blood-flow returned with the sensation of a thousand needle pricks. The tattered remnants of her clothes had only been held up by her body pressed against the chain-link. Now that she was freed and could move away, they fell to the floor like so many rags. Alex sank down to the ground and pulled her knees to her chest. Olivia slid to the floor next to her.

"This is all my fault, Liv," Alex mourned.

"Don't say that." Olivia's voice was muffled. Her elbows rested on her knees, her hands cradling her head. She waited for the spell of nausea to pass. Her head was pounding like a jackhammer. Her throat ached and her ribs and torso were badly bruised, not to mention the bruises that dotted her thighs where his knees had jabbed into her to force her legs apart. "This is not your fault." Olivia remembered what she had seen on Alex's legs while she was untying her. "Alex, did Zapata…?"

Alex looked away. "No." She paused. "He masturbated while he was watching you."

"Oh."

Several minutes of silence passed before Alex stood up. She offered a hand to Olivia; the detective took it and got to her feet. The concussion she had received the night before seemed mild enough, but violent rape did not exactly qualify as rest and relaxation.

"I'm going to poke around a bit, see if I can find anything to tell us where we are." Alex hugged herself unconsciously, trying to shield her nakedness. "Do you want a shower?"

"Yeah. I guess there's no point in trying to preserve evidence, is there?"

_Always the cop_, Alex mused. "No, probably not. Go ahead, I'll wait till you're done."

"Alex." The blonde turned back at the sound of Olivia's voice. Olivia was peeling of her shirt; her hair stood up from the static when she reemerged. "Here," Olivia said simply.

Alex reached out hesitantly to take the shirt. She slipped it on and it fell down to her upper thighs. The long sleeves hugged her wrists. She breathed deeply. Even though it wasn't much, it felt good to have some form of clothing. It made her feel less vulnerable. "Thanks."

"Sure." Olivia crossed the room, trying not to limp despite the pain between her legs. She stumbled into the small refuge of the shower, faced the wall, and stripped off her bra and pants, throwing them on the floor on the other side of the barrier. She looked down. There was a fierce, dark bruise on her right shoulder and another one below her left breast where she'd been shot. There was blood on her neck and shoulder that had probably stemmed from Connors broken nose. There were ligature marks on her wrists where she had pulled against the handcuffs. Olivia closed her eyes and reached down with one hand, gently exploring the tender and bruised flesh. There was a trace of blood on her fingers. Olivia had seen enough rapes to know that he had caused small rips and tears when he forced himself into her dry entrance. With a slightly shaking hand, Olivia turned on the water. She slid down, her back resting against the barrier while she balanced on the balls of her feet. The water cascaded over her. It took several minutes to warm up, but eventually it did and Olivia felt her muscles slowly relax under the warm stream. She closed her eyed and let the water pour down over her, blocking out everything else.

Alex found several microwave meals and water bottles in the refrigerator. In the cabinet were some basic eating utensils and a box marked "first aid." Alex pulled that out and opened it up to rifle through the contents. There was a large bottle of witch-hazel, anti-biotic ointment, a small container of rubbing alcohol, and an assortment of band-aids and bandages. Alex pulled out the witch-hazel and grabbed a ball of toilet paper. She soaked the paper and slid one hand up under the shirt to press the wad against the massive bruise on her chest. It smelled bad, but the witch-hazel helped cool the ache. Alex prodded tenderly along her ribs. There was one place that made her gasp in pain, even at a light touch. She didn't know if the rib was actually cracked or not, but it hurt.

She hadn't heard any movement from the shower. Alex wandered over slowly, not wanting to intrude, but still wanting to make sure Olivia was alright. No matter what the detective said, Alex couldn't get past the notion that their predicament was her fault. That guilt made her all the more determined to do anything she could to watch out for Olivia.

"Liv?" Alex called softly. She could hear a soft groan as Olivia lifted herself up. Alex's breath caught in her throat. The detective's smooth skin was marred by giant bruises and the handprint on her neck stood out in sharp relief. There was a thin line that streaked across her throat where Zapata had held the knife. One of her breasts showed faint signs of bruising as well. "Are you alright?"

Olivia shrugged, "a concussion and a few bruises is all. I'll be fine. How about you?"

"A cracked rib and a few bruises. Nothing too bad."

Olivia sucked in a deep breath. "Elliot's dead." Alex could tell by the way she was speaking that Olivia was still in shock.

"They could be lying," Alex suggested hopefully. Olivia shook her head.

"I saw him. Before I passed out, I saw him bleeding."

"Oh, Liv." Alex breathed. _I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I was so stupid. And now it's my fault that Elliot is dead, my fault that you were raped…_

* * *

><p>By the time Alex had finished her shower, Olivia had tended her wounds and was sitting on the bed. Neither of them wanted to be exposed any more than they had to and, since they had no way to dry themselves off, had put their clothes back on wet. Alex twisted her hair around her hand, trying to wring off the excess water before pulling Olivia's shirt back on. She leaned against the wall near the bed. "I'm sorry, Olivia. I really screwed up."<p>

Olivia shook her head. "Alex, you can't blame yourself. We all wanted to go after him. This is his fault. They're the murderers; they're the rapists."

Alex took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to center herself. When she spoke, her voice was as calm and level as if she were asking about the weather. "How long do you think it will take them to find us?"

"Not long," Olivia lied. They both knew that the DEA had been working for 2 years to fold Cesar Velez's operation. Zapata was the head of the American side of the business; they had both seen the extensive list of properties he owned and knew that there was far more to his holdings than what was listed on paper. Even if the police could tie Zapata to the kidnappings in order to get a warrant, they would be gone long before the police ever got there.

Alex leaned her head back, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm scared," she confessed.

Olivia looked over at her. "I know," she replied. "We just have to… have to fight until we can get out or someone finds us." Alex looked skeptical. "We are going to get out of here," Olivia said fiercely.

* * *

><p>Olivia lay in the bed facing the wall. She had learned long ago to cry silently; it was a skill engrained over time, every time her mother had gotten drunk and angry. Her shoulders didn't tremble and her breathing didn't falter, but rivers of tears ran down. They wet the pillow beneath her face and the fabric of the pillowcase stuck to her skin as the salty tears dried.<p>

Alex couldn't see her face, but she knew that Olivia was crying. Her legs hung over the bed, one foot tapping out an endless metronome, counting past the seconds. Zapata would be coming for her soon enough.

_Her eyes were closed. She wished that she could close her ears as well. She could feel the force of Connors thrusts reverberating through the fence. She could hear Olivia's cries for help – cries she was powerless to answer. She could hear Zapata panting as he masturbated; he stood so close to her that she could feel his hand brush against her as he jerked off. _

"_This is your fault," Zapata whispered as his hot semen shot against Alex's leg. On the other side of the fence, Olivia groaned in pain. Alex opened her eyes. Zapata was right in front of her, his eyes fixed over her shoulder. "You know that. It's your fault that bitch is suffering." _

_Alex heard a choked splutter as Connors wrapped his hand around Olivia's throat. "Let her go." Zapata's eyes darkened and Alex added a quiet "please." _

"_No. You do everything I want – without hesitation or complaint – and maybe she won't get it so bad. You fight me or disrespect me and I will see to it that every man who works for me gets the chance to fuck your friend senseless. And I'll make you watch." _

_Connors pushed Olivia against the fence a few more times and then Alex felt the motion as Olivia fell to the ground. "You're mine, Alexandra," Zapata purred into her ear. "The sooner you realize that the better – for you and for her." He stepped away from her and moved toward the open gate. "I'll be back for you later, Alexandra." _

At some point, Alex realized that Olivia's breathing had deepened into the steady pattern of sleep. There was no way to keep track of how much time passed. There were no windows, no clocks – nothing. She didn't know how long it was before one of Zapata's men on the other side of the fence. He beckoned her forward with a wave of his hand.

Alex stood slowly, not wanting to disturb Olivia's sleep. _I can do this_, she told herself firmly. _I can to this for Olivia's sake."_


	4. Chapter 4

Alex felt like she was drowning when she saw Zapata's man on the other side of the fence. She took a deep breath as she stood up. Ever since Olivia had fallen asleep, Alex had been consumed with trepidation. Earlier, with Zapata in front of her and the unbearable sound of Olivia's torment behind her, everything had seemed so simple: _I just do what he wants and Olivia doesn't suffer_. The more time that passed, though, the less clear things were. She had been helpless while Olivia was raped and she had been helpless while Olivia cried afterward. _What makes me think that I can do anything to protect her, even if I do give in to Zapata? There is nothing to stop him from abusing Olivia anyway. There has to be something, some way… _

Olivia woke up when she felt Alex's weight shift. She turned just enough to see out of the corner of her eye as the blonde walked directly toward the door. Olivia's eyes narrowed. She rolled onto her other side and watched as a man opened the door for Alex. She stood frozen for a moment, her back rigid and her head held high. The man motioned her forward and Alex followed. Olivia watched through slanted eyes as they disappeared from view.

All of Alex's senses were heightened as the man led her out through the gate. She glanced around. There was a stairwell at the far end of the room and one door set in each of the side walls. The man led her to the room on the right. Alex followed him to within ten feet of the door and froze. "I can't," she whispered to herself. The man didn't seem to notice her hesitation. He opened the door. Inside was a queen-sized, four-poster bed, a small flat-screen TV and a desk. Zapata sat comfortably behind the desk, his laptop in front of him.

Alex felt a wave of fear pulse through her as Zapata stood and came to the doorway. She wanted to back away; she wanted to turn and run. But Alexandra Cabot was never one to act on a momentary impulse. She always thought several moves ahead. _If she ran, she would find all the doors locked. There was no way out. They would catch her. And she was sure of only one thing that Zapata had said earlier – any mistakes she made, Olivia would have to pay for. _Alex squared her shoulders and set her jaw. Her pulse pounded furiously in her throat.

"Alexandra…"

She couldn't move. Her feet were glued to the floor. She couldn't think. All she could see was him coming toward her. "I want you to let her go – unharmed. I will do anything you want once she is safely free. If you are concerned that she would lead the police back here, I will convince her. I can talk to her. I'll give you my word, if only you let her go. I cannot accept anything less."

"It's not a matter of what you can or cannot accept. Eventually you will realize that." He took a slow step in her direction. Alex held her ground. "You are powerless here." Before Alex realized what was happening, the other man had slipped behind her and grabbed her by the arms. Zapata punched her in the stomach and Alex doubled over. "You thought you had power over me," he hissed, grabbing her by the hair. "You thought that you could disrespect me. You were wrong. Nobody disrespects me and gets away with it." Zapata nodded to his man, who pulled a syringe out and uncapped it.

Alex fought. She pulled away, ignoring the tightness in her scalp as Zapata yanked her back. She lashed out, scraping her nails into his arms. The other man tried to approach and she elbowed him hard in the chest. Zapata's arms closed around her, pulling her to him and crushing her ribs. Alex gasped and her vision swam as he put pressure on her broken rib. He held her arms pinned against her chest and wrenched her head to the side. Alex strained against him as her eyes followed the needle in the other man's hand. He dipped out of her field of vision and Alex felt a prick in her neck. Every muscle in her body went limp.

She woke up later, naked, in Zapata's bed. Her arms were tied down with an under-the-bed restraint system. Her whole body ached and there was something wet between her thighs. _You will _not_ cry,_ Alex ordered herself, _not now; not in front of him._ Her legs were stiff and sore.

Somehow, Zapata knew that she had woken up. "Welcome back. Sorry you had to miss all the fun." Reluctantly, Alex turned her head. Zapata smirked at her and tilted the computer screen so she could see the image. It was a picture of her, passed out, while Zapata raped her. Alex averted her eyes from the image. Zapata was smiling at her, obviously pleased with himself.

"I am going to get out of here," Alex said evenly, in the same steel and ice tone that she used in the courthouse. "I am going to make sure that the next prosecutor who goes after you has all the evidence they need to put you away for good."

He laughed. "You are never going to leave here. When I get tired of you, I'll dump your body like I did that other whore's." He got up from the desk and sat on the bed next to her. He rested his hand casually on her thigh and Alex's skin crawled. "So if you want to stay alive, you'd better do your best to make sure I don't get tired of you."

* * *

><p>Olivia was pacing. At first she had been numb – in shock. But something about seeing them take Alex had shaken her out of her self-pity. She was furious. She was furious with Zapata for being the raping, murdering bastard who planned all this and with Connors for being the sick son of a bitch that raped her and killed her partner.<p>

_Elliot_. She couldn't accept that he was dead. She knew that he was and yet still felt like she should be able to turn around and see him at her side. As if thinking of him had called his ghost, Olivia felt a chill run up her spine and turned. There was nothing there. She was completely alone.

* * *

><p>Alex slipped back into the room as one of Zapata's men closed the gate behind her. She stood motionless as she heard his footsteps retreating. Only once she was sure she was alone did she let her impassive mask crack. Zapata had taken pictures the whole time she was passed out. He had then spent hours going through the pictures, showing them to Alex and recounting in explicit detail everything that he had done to her.<p>

As bad as it was not having any memory of what he did, having to hear his memory of it was worse.

Alex got in the shower and leaned against the wall. Her shoulders shook as the sobs ripped out of her. A soft moan caught in her throat and Alex pressed her hands over her face, wanting to hide from everything that had happened.

"Alex?" Olivia's voice was soft and concerned.

It was not often that Alex found herself speechless. She couldn't respond, couldn't think to put words together. She bit her lips to silence the cries that were rising to her lips. She heard Olivia stir and then footsteps coming toward her.

_No, no, no…_ Alex shuddered. "Olivia, please… just… leave me." The footsteps retreated. Alex knew that Olivia was still watching her, waiting for a chance to do something or say something… Olivia was used to always taking care of the victim. Alex's mind tripped over that word: _victim. _Everything she knew, everything she had learned as a prosecutor had taught her that anyone could be the victim of a crime. But it was so much harder to accept when she had to face the fact that she had been victimized. And it was hard to convince herself that it was not her fault. _A victim is never responsible for a crime perpetrated upon them_, she told herself. _I know that – as a prosecutor, as a lawyer, as a woman, as a _person_ – I know that the fault of the crime lies with the criminal and not the victim. And yet… _She hugged herself forlornly. In a distant part of her mind, she realized that the hot water was gone and that she was shivering from the cold.

She wrapped her arms over her chest and sank to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest. It helped to preserve body heat. The floor was cold. Alex knew that she would warm up if she got out of the shower, but the water rushing over her was like a temporary refuge, cutting her off from the rest of her surroundings. Her teeth were chattering, she noted with vague disinterest.

"Alex?" Olivia's voice was closer now; Alex hadn't even heard her approach. The water stopped. "Alex, come on." A towel fell over her shoulders. Alex pulled the ends closed, wrapping it tightly around her. "Alex, come on, get up." Her legs shook as she stood and Olivia lead her out of the shower. There was a plastic bag on the ground that hadn't been there before Zapata had taken her away. It bulged with clothes and Alex guessed that was where Olivia had gotten the towel. "Sit," Olivia urged her gently. Alex bent her knees and found the edge of the bed right behind her. Olivia sat next to her. "Do you want to talk?"

Alex shook her head slowly as she considered her words. "How many hundreds of rape victims have we seen, Olivia? We have seen _every _possible perversion, every disgusting thing that people do to hurt and torture another human being. And…" Alex's voice was tight with frustration. "I never really understood. Not until now."

"I know," Olivia said quietly.

"I don't remember," Alex whispered, her voice small. Olivia gave no reaction, but waited for her to say whatever she needed to say. "I thought I could do what they wanted – if I had to… but I couldn't." Alex didn't say why she had felt like she had to. "He drugged me." Her fingertips brushed over the spot on her neck, feeling the slight bump where the needle had gone in. "He took pictures and showed them to me afterward." Alex sat up straight and looked directly at Olivia. "There were at least a dozen other folders on his computer with a woman's name. Livia," Thankfully Alex remembered not to say the former DEA agent's last name in case Zapata's men had this room bugged. "Was not his first victim," she finished. "And once we get out of here, I'm going to make sure that computer is seized so I can prove it."

"When I saw you go with him…." Olivia hesitated. "I was angry with you," she finally confessed. "I thought it meant that you had just given in – given up." Alex stared at her in disbelief. "I mean, there have been cases of Stockholm's setting in even within a matter of hours. I didn't know if…" She cleared her throat. "But then I thought… maybe it might make it easier for you… maybe they wouldn't hurt you so much if…"

"Olivia, stop." Alex's voice was hard and strong. Olivia met her eyes and saw the same resilient strength there. "When have you ever known me to just give up?" Olivia shifted a little but said nothing. "I've never been one to throw myself into a fight that I know I can't win; you've seen that in court. But just because I can't win a case doesn't mean I give up on it – I wait and I manipulate the situation until it becomes a fight that I _can_ win." Alex drew the towel in closer around her, hugging herself, but her voice continued in the same vein. "Every perp makes a mistake eventually. I just have to be sure that when Zapata does slip up, I'll be in a position to take advantage of it."

Neither of them slept much that night. Alex took the side of the bed nearest the wall; she pressed herself up against it as though trying to disappear. Olivia curled on her side, facing out into the room. Her eyes searched the darkness; every shadow was a threat and every sound was the sound of footsteps coming for her, coming for Alex.

* * *

><p>The Marshalls took Elliot out of the New York to a safe-house in another city; he didn't know where. Two days passed before the doctors declared that he had recovered enough to move to a more permanent location. They flew him to some small town in Wisconsin, found him a pre-furnished apartment and gave him enough money to get by until he found a job.<p>

Elliot was overwhelmed with loss. His every moment was consumed with worry for Kathy and their children, for Olivia and Alex. He wondered who was handling their case – SVU definitely would have been pulled for being too close. He wanted so much to pick up a phone and call his family, to hear their voices again. There had been plenty of times when he had been at work for days at a time and not talked to his family, but this was different. This time he didn't know when or if he'd ever be able to talk to them again without endangering their lives.

He needed a distraction. He registered at a gym and beat a punching bag until his knuckles were raw. He put on a pair of jogging shoes for the first time in years – he never had time anymore, not since starting at SVU – and ran until his body ached. He was lost. _Kathy. Olivia._ Their names echoed in his head as his feet pounded on the pavement. He was utterly lost without them.

When he finally returned to the empty apartment, Elliot kicked off his shoes just inside the door. He missed the sounds of the twins squabbling, of Kathleen and Maureen engaged in long and drawn out conversations about whoever happened to be their "hottest boy in the world" this week. He needed Kathy – her constant, soothing presence, her arms around him, her gentle kiss that eased away the pain of his work.

Elliot picked up the remote and absently flipped the TV on as he crossed the small apartment to the only bedroom. He pulled his sweat-soaked shirt over his head and eased the jogging shorts down his legs. He stepped naked into the bathroom and was about to turn on the shower when he heard the news anchor on the TV.

"_This afternoon, the Westboro Baptist Church continued in their controversial protests at the funeral of a member of the NYPD, Detective Elliot Stabler. The New York Police force turned out in the hundreds for the funeral and the protestors were unable to get close enough to cause a disturbance." _

The news cameras panned across the crowd. Elliot saw a wall of his fellow officers, creating an impenetrable barrier between the protestors and the funeral. He could see behind them the casket being carried toward the grave site. His casket. Elliot swallowed uncomfortably. He crouched in front of the TV, his nose nearly touching the glass. He could just barely make out the pallbearers: Cragen, Fin, Munch, Pete Breslin (his old partner) and two friends from his unit in the Marine Corps. The cameras avoided his family and he was glad that they were afforded that small measure of privacy.

He hadn't been listening to the TV, but then he recognized the Chief of Detective's voice. _"There are currently no leads in the murder of Detective Stabler; his death is being investigated in conjunction with the abduction of his partner, Detective Olivia Benson, and Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot." _Olivia and Alex's pictures flashed up on the screen with the number for a tip-line. _"If you have any information regarding the location of these two women, please call the number on your screen. These calls are confidential and will not be traced."_

Elliot sat back, falling away from the TV. _I should be the one out there looking for Liv and Alex,_ he thought furiously. _What kind of cop, what kind of man am I to tuck tail and run when my partner's in danger?_ Another, slightly more rational voice answered; _the kind who wants his family to be safe._ There was nothing easy, nothing simple about this situation. Elliot was torn between knowing that his "death" kept his family safe and wanting to be in New York to protect the woman he loved and to search for his partner. But he wasn't in New York; he couldn't be in New York. Instead he was a thousand miles away from the people he loved, sitting naked on the floor of an empty apartment and wondering what in God's name he was supposed to do.


	5. Chapter 5

Days passed without a word from Zapata or any of his men. Olivia and Alex fell restlessly into the boredom of captivity. They ate when they were hungry, slept when they were tired, and tended to their wounds. By the second day, the piercing pain in Alex's ribs had dulled to a mild ache that throbbed when she moved; she surmised that they had only ever been badly bruised to the bone, rather than cracked as she had thought in her original assessment. Olivia's concussion meant that it still hurt if she tried to move too quickly or especially if she sat or stood too suddenly. She had been experiencing periodic nausea and pounding, aching headaches that forced her to stay in bed until they passed; these had been gradually decreasing in frequency and Olivia was anxious for the day they stopped altogether.

In the lonely, quiet hours that marched slowly on without any outside contact, the two women developed their own sort of game to pass the time. One of them would suddenly break the silence with a statement beginning with the phrase: "When we get out of here…" The other would then respond with a similar statement. Whenever one of them was feeling particularly melancholy, she might begin the phrase with "If we ever get out of here…" Every time that happened, they both fell into a lost silence and sometimes hours passed before either spoke again.

They had no sense of what time it was, what day it was, or even if it was day or night. Olivia was curled in the bed, nursing a painful headache. The first aid kit held no pain killers, probably out of concern that one of them might try to OD, so Olivia was relegated to using just a wet washcloth to try to ease the ache. Alex was stretched out on the floor, her hands crossed beneath her head and her knees casually bent so her feet rested against the floor. Olivia could see her lips moving slightly as her eyes followed the slow-spinning fans above. The first time she had done this, Olivia had asked what she was doing. Alex possessed an incredible memory; as she lay on the floor and stared off into space, she was also recalling a book, a law code, an interesting article in a magazine – anything to keep her mind occupied. Sometimes she would remember a particularly fun novel and start telling the story aloud so that Olivia could listen. Her memory was not perfect by any means, but she had an amazing ability to recall details – even quotations – from literature she had read years before. Olivia imagined that skill had served her well in law school.

"When we get out of here," Olivia began, "I'm going to visit my mother's grave."

Alex's lips stopped moving. She tapped her foot against the floor for a moment. "When we get out of –" she stopped suddenly as they both heard a noise. Alex jumped up and spun around. Zapata was standing just on the other side of the gate, flanked by two cronies. They were unlocking the door. Alex looked at Olivia, panic rising in her chest. Olivia had leapt to her feet as well and was at Alex's side in an instant. "If we get out of here," Alex whispered, "I'm going to drive upstate just to tell my mother I love her."

Zapata was holding something in his hands as he approached them and he threw it at their feet. Olivia bent down and picked it up; it was a copy of the New York Ledger. The image on the front threatened to rip her heart out. It was Elliot's funeral procession. She could see Kathy and the four children crying beside the gravesite. The crowd was filled with blue uniforms, hundreds and hundreds of the NYPD – so many in fact that Olivia could barely distinguish the individual faces in the grainy photo. She could recognize, however, the sober expressions on Cragen, Fin, and Munch's faces as they carried Elliot on their shoulders. Smaller pictures of Alex and her floated in the corner. "_No leads on missing detective and ADA."_ Olivia didn't realize she was crying until she saw a teardrop hit the paper in front of her. She hastily brushed it off, afraid that it would make the image run. She noted the date on the header: assuming this was today's paper, she and Alex had been here for four days.

Alex glanced at the paper as Olivia picked it up. Her heart caught in her throat.

"Alexandra," Zapata called.

At the sound of his voice, Olivia put the paper aside, tossing it onto the bed. "Get out of here," she growled; her voice was low and threatening. The anguish she had felt upon seeing the picture of Elliot's funeral had turned suddenly into a cold rage.

Zapata snarled as he lunged at her, fury overwhelming his senses. Olivia charged, meeting him head on. She caught him with her shoulder, stopping his momentum. His fist curled up into her stomach but she barely felt it. She grappled with him, trying to get behind him so that she could go for a chokehold. He was blind with fury and his fists hammered at every part of Olivia that he could reach. One of his thick hands grabbed Olivia by the throat and he managed to throw her down to the floor. Before she could get up, he was on top of her. He knelt over her, both hands on her throat. Olivia bucked her hips upward, throwing him off balance. He tumbled forward, moving his hands from her neck to the floor to catch his weight. Olivia snaked one arm up around the back of his neck and pressed her opposite forearm across his throat. Before she could lock the maneuver, however, his grip closed around her wrist. He pinned her arm against the ground and straightened up a bit, shifting his knees forward so that he was sitting on her stomach to prevent her from trying the same trick again. His fist landed heavily three, four times. Olivia couldn't breathe and she tasted blood in her mouth. He put his hands around her neck and squeezed until she went limp. He looked over to where Alex had been standing.

Alex had tried to intervene, to help Olivia. But as soon as she had gotten close, one of Zapata's wild blows had knocked her back. His two flunkies had grabbed her and pinned her down. They pushed her face first into the floor; one of them was practically lying on top of her to hold her down. His breath was hot and repugnant against her neck and he smelled of sweat and pot. He glanced over at his boss, but Zapata was still busy trying to get the cop under control. He thrust against Alex a few times through their clothes, his eager member springing to hardness at the feel of her under him. Alex tried to roll to the side, but his knees on either side of her thighs and his hands on her arms prevented her from moving. She pushed upward, raising herself to her hands and knees. He was still bent over her but his grip on her arms was weakened by the changed angle. Alex took advantage of that fact and dropped to one shoulder, rolling over so that she could get a knee straight up into the man's crotch. As soon as she managed to get away from him, though, the other man was waiting for her and she was pinned down again.

Zapata left Olivia immobile on the ground. One of his men left Alex to stand guard over Olivia. The other dragged Alex up to her feet. Zapata grabbed her by the hair and jerked her roughly toward the door. The two men followed; Olivia just began to stir as they were re-locking the door.

"No!" she screamed. She rolled over onto her stomach and pushed herself up off the floor, ignoring the splitting pain in her head. "ALEX!"

Alex pulled against Zapata as he dragged her toward his room. She twisted around and her gaze met Olivia's. Her throat was tight and she couldn't speak. Her eyes were wide and frightened as she disappeared from Olivia's view.

Zapata pulled Alex into the room and shoved her onto the bed. Alex scrambled to her feet, pushing his hands away from her. She could feel a scream rising in her chest, but her vocal cords were frozen. Her back pressed against the wall, she could feel her heart thudding in her chest. She tried to speak but nothing came out, her mouth moved wordlessly.

* * *

><p>When Alex finally returned to the cell, she was bloody and bruised. She had a split lip, a black eye and a deep cut that ran the length of her cheekbone; blood was drying in a small trail under her nose and her arms were covered in bruises.<p>

Olivia jumped up and ran to her as soon as she was through the door. She slipped the blonde's arm over her shoulders and half-carried her into the room.

"I'm sorry, Liv, I'm so sorry," Alex mumbled; her chin dropped to her chest.

Olivia was worried. Alex's feet were dragging and Olivia was supporting most of her weight. "Don't worry, Alex. You're here, I've got you." Together they made their way over to the wall near the kitchen area. Olivia helped Alex sit on the floor, propped up against the wall. She reached for the first aid kit and set about trying to assess the extent of Alex's wounds.

Alex rolled her head back to rest on the wall as Olivia brushed the cut on her cheek with an alcohol swab. She ignored the burn, but her clear blue eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Olivia. "Liv," she whispered, her hand coming up to grab the brunette's wrist. Olivia stopped what she was doing. "He said that…" her voice choked but she forced herself to continue. "If I did what he wanted, he wouldn't hurt you. But I just… couldn't. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Olivia pulled Alex to her; the blonde leaned in and wrapped her arms around her friend. "Shh, shh," Olivia soothed as she felt tears soaking through her shirt. "It's alright, Alex. It's not your fault." Her fingers brushed through long, soft hair as she eased it away from Alex's face; some of the locks were clumped with the sticky residue of dried blood. "It's not your fault," she repeated.

The hours after that passed in tense silence. It took Alex a while to feel steady enough on her feet to take a shower; her whole body was covered in dark bruises but it didn't seem like anything was broken. Olivia helped her over to the shower; she knew from long experience the wonders a hot shower could do for a tired and sore body.

Alex was still in the shower, though Olivia imagined the "hot" component had long since vanished, when Zapata arrived again. Olivia glanced over toward the shower; the last time she had seen Alex, she was sitting on the floor with her head on her knees. Apparently the rushing water blocked out the sound of the padlock and chain sliding free and the door swinging open.

Olivia was unnervingly calm as Zapata aimed a gun straight at her face. One of his men approached her; she didn't resist as he tied her hands behind her. If she tried to fight them, Alex would hear and try to help her. Both of them would get hurt and, especially with Zapata's having introduced a gun into the equation, that was not a risk Olivia was willing to take.

_Please, _Olivia thought as the man took her by the arm and propelled her forward. _Please, Alex, stay down. Don't look, don't listen… whatever is about to happen isn't your fault._ Alex had been in the shower for the better part of an hour already, with any luck she would stay there until this was all over.

Outside the gate, there were five men waiting… five men and a bare mattress thrown on the floor in the middle of the naked room. Olivia felt a wave of fear rush over her, fluttering in her stomach and pounding in her chest and choking her. A blind panic was rising in her, threatening to overwhelm her. Someone pushed her forward and then hands were grabbing at her, pushing her down, tearing her clothes from her. Something inside her broke and then she was fighting – biting and kicking even with her hands tied behind her back. There were hands on her back, pushing her down and the stench of the dirty mattress was suffocating.

She didn't even know when she had started screaming. Rough hands ripped her pants down her legs and a knife cut through her shirt and her bra because they didn't want to untie her hands in order to take her shirt off over her head. A warm body settled on top of her and she could feel his hard length rutting against her ass. There was laughter all around her. "Why doesn't someone shut this bitch up?" the voice on top of her muttered.

"I've got something that will shut her up," came another voice and there was more raucous laughter. Olivia's eyes screwed shut and she pressed her lips together as a man grabbed her face and pulled her toward him. Something warm and moist and salty rubbed against her lips. She snapped her teeth and the man released her and pulled away. More laughter. Thick fingers pushed a wad of fabric into her mouth and she gagged as the dry cloth was rammed to the back of her throat. A strip of duct tape kept her from spitting it out. She realized that even with her own cries silenced, someone was still screaming. Olivia forced her eyes open. Through the mess of bodies crushing in around her, she could see Alex, wrapped in nothing more than a towel and with water dripping from her hair and body to pool on the floor beneath her. Her arms reached through the fence and tears ran down her face as she pleaded; nobody paid her any attention.

The man on top of her jerked her hips up and positioned himself behind her. The mattress under her face was wet and Olivia attempted to choke back her sobs, afraid that if her nose stopped up she would suffocate. Something shattered and her mind separated from her body. She was only vaguely away of the crushing weight of the man on top of her and inside her. She knew that she was still struggling, still fighting, but it was as if she were outside her body, watching.

The first man finished and released her hips. Olivia felt her body collapse flat against the mattress. More hands rolled her over, pushing her onto her back. She kicked out, not knowing whether or not any of her strikes landed and not really caring. A weight fell on her chest, another hot, heavy body that reeked of sweat and sex. He fumbled between her legs and her back arched in pain as he pushed into her. After that man came another, and another, and another.

When it was over, one of them untied her hands. Her fingers were numb as she gently eased the tape off her dry lips. She looked over toward Alex. She had collapsed against the foot of the fence and Zapata was standing over her. Olivia could imagine the poisonous words he was feeding her. She closed her eyes, wishing that she could just disappear, that she could stop the world for a moment or for a few hours.

Her body was limp as someone dragged her off the mattress, her hip jarred painfully as she fell onto the hard floor. She could have moved, could have tried to do something, but for a moment it was easier just to close her eyes and pretend she did not exist. She felt her lower back scrape the ground until the hands dropped her at the foot of the gate. The door swung open and a foot nudged at her ribs, pushing her over and into the room. She felt Alex's gentle hands on her, trying to help her up, and she flinched. Alex pulled away. Olivia still didn't want to open her eyes, still didn't want to face anyone or anything, but she knew that there was something she had to say. It took a considerable effort to open her eyes, to make her jaw move. "Not… your… fault," she ground out slowly. Then, finally, she surrendered into the cool release of oblivion and let Alex take care of her.


	6. Chapter 6

"_Not… your… fault."_ Olivia's word's echoed in Alex's mind. Alex didn't know what to do. Olivia was curled up on the floor, her eyes closed tightly and her breathing shallow. For a moment, Alex was terrified and her mind raced through everything that she had seen. She couldn't remember Olivia taking any blows to the head that would make her pass out – even if there had been, Olivia would have passed out when it happened, not later. _No, _she decided, _Olivia is like this because she just doesn't want to be conscious right now. She'll snap out of it soon. She'll come back soon._ They had seen it in rape victims many times before, but that didn't mean that it scared Alex any less.

Alex wrapped Olivia's arm around her shoulder and tried to stand up, as Olivia had done for her earlier. But the lithe attorney weighed decently less than Olivia and didn't have the same muscle mass.

Olivia stirred when she felt Alex try to lift her. "Shower," she mumbled. "Have to get them off me." Alex swallowed; she knew what Olivia meant.

"You have to help me, then," Alex said. "Try to stand." Alex lifted again and Olivia managed to get to her feet. Her eyes were still closed. They made it to the bathroom and Olivia made no effort to remain standing. Alex stood for a moment, awkwardly pinned against the wall as Olivia slumped against her. Olivia's arms were wrapped around her and her head leaned on Alex's shoulder. Alex slipped slowly down the wall until she was sitting on the floor with Olivia half on her lap. She reached up with one hand to turn on the water. Her towel was long gone; it had dropped at some point while she was half-carrying Olivia across the room. Olivia's legs curled out on the floor and her chest rested across Alex's knees. Her arms were crossed beneath her head on the floor and her hair clung to her face as the water poured down over them.

Alex placed one hand gently in the middle of Olivia's back. Olivia tensed for a moment and then, for the first time since their capture, every muscle in her body relaxed as Alex rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles.

Olivia was barely cognizant of her surroundings. Only a few dull sensations penetrated the haze that engulfed her. Since they had forced her down onto that mattress, she had felt separated from her body, as though she was watching these things happen to someone else. Only now was she beginning to slowly reconnect. She saw the naked form being kicked through the door and realized that it was her. She heard Alex speak and realized that it was her legs that fought to stand. And now she felt the water running over her body, washing away the foul traces of their hands on her skin. She felt Alex's comforting touch on her back and knew that Alex could probably feel her trembling as she slowly came back to herself. She knew she was naked – they both were, she realized – and that she should probably be embarrassed but she couldn't find the energy to care.

She could hear Alex speaking, but it took too much effort to decipher the words. The water felt so good flowing over her and all she wanted was to just stay here and not move.

Alex was worried. She had coaxed Olivia into sitting up and had helped her wash her hair. Olivia had leaned back into her hands as Alex gently massaged her scalp and the implicit trust in the gesture made a lump rise in Alex's throat. Olivia had barely moved while Alex carefully washed the rest of her body, her hand moving in gentle circles with the soap as though she were bathing a child. When the water began to run cold, Alex helped Olivia stand and dry off. She helped Olivia get dressed and sit down on the bed. Tears stung her eyes as she dressed quickly and went to get the first-aid kit and bring it back over.

Olivia rose to the surface slowly, as if she were swimming up from a great distance. She heard Alex's quiet murmurs and felt hands massaging an ointment into the ligature marks on her wrists. Olivia opened her eyes.

Alex's tear-stained face swam in front of her. Olivia blinked slowly; her own eyes were also filled with tears. "Alex," she croaked. "When we get out of here, I'm going to kill him."

Alex made a sudden sound that was halfway between a sob and a laugh. "Olivia, when we get out of here, I'm afraid you're going to be fighting for first place in that line."

Olivia nodded and fell silent again for a moment. Alex continued to rub the antibiotic cream into her raw skin and Olivia had to admit that it felt good to simply relax and let Alex tend to her. "It's not true," she said suddenly, "None of what he said to you."

Alex's hands stilled. "Some of it is," she replied.

"Like what?"

"Well, that you were being raped because I tried to fight him. He told me the first day here that was what would happen if I fought him."

"That was why you went with him that day."

Alex nodded. "I don't know why I –" She had to pause and restart. "I _knew_ that he was serious and that he would hurt you. I told myself that I could just… just do it and try not to think about it. But when it came down to it, I couldn't. I fought him even though I knew what it would cost – what it would cost _you!_ But I couldn't help it, I just had to fight, I couldn't just give in to him." Her clear blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Please forgive me," she finished softly.

"Alex, there is nothing to forgive. Whatever he chooses to do is his fault and not yours. It doesn't matter what he says – the things he does or orders other people to do are his own sick perversions and not consequences of any actions of yours. Besides," Olivia brought one hand up to cup Alex's face; she ran her thumb over the swelling beneath Alex's eye. "It looks like you already took a punishment for fighting him."

"Well," Alex ducked her head abashedly, "that's not only reason behind it." Her hands twisted anxiously in her lap.

_Alex fought hard, but Zapata forced her to his bed. He slapped her across the face and one of his rings opened up a gash on her left cheek. He pinned her arms down and began working on securing her wrists with the restraint cuffs. Alex managed to twist one hand away from him. _Aim for the eyes,_ she told herself. But before her nails could dig into the soft tissue, he punched her. Alex felt her head whip back against the bed as stars exploded in front of her. He leaned down over her, pressing one forearm down over her windpipe as the other hand worked to lock the restraint cuff around her wrists. With her arms lock down and her legs pinned by his weight, there was not much Alex could do to fight him. The hot fury in her chest deflated, dulled to a slow cold burn and joined by a shocked horror. _

_He locked her legs into similar restraints; Alex was trapped, spread-eagle before his searing eyes and roaming hands. He pushed her shirt up, baring her breasts. His mouth locked on to one of her nipples and Alex bit back a cry as he sucked hard, scraping his teeth over her sensitive skin. His hand mauled her other breast, rolling her soft flesh under his palm as he moaned excitedly. When he finally left her breasts, his mouth moved up to suck on her neck, leaving a trail of small bruises on her porcelain skin. Alex turned her face to the side, not wanting to look at him. She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg and plead with him to get off of her and leave her alone. Alex bit her lip. He could take her ability to move and to fight, he could take her body by sheer brute force, but damned if he would have anything else! She would hold on to some small fragment of her dignity if it killed her to do so. _

_His hand snaked between them and he pushed her pants down to her knees. He sat up, looming over her prone figure as he unzipped his own pants and pulled out his limp penis. Alex kept her face carefully expressionless. He leaned down over her again, kissing her, his mouth wet against her tightly closed lips. He humped her leg and Alex had to force down the bile that was threatened to rise in her throat. He flopped uselessly against her thigh. _

_Zapata growled in frustration. He grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her, lifting her torso up off the bed as much as the restraints would allow. Alex cried out in surprise and his cock twitched in response. He threw her back down and punched her hard in the stomach. Alex gasped for air as he thrust into her, still only semi-erect. He pumped a few times, throwing his weight against her hard enough that his hipbones left bruises on her thighs. His erection failed him and he sagged on top of her. _

"You remember that he killed Livia because she mocked his performance in the bed?" Alex asked, her voice hushed as though afraid he might be listening. "He wasn't quite _up_ to the task earlier." Alex's expression was inscrutable. "I knew better than to say anything, but I guess my relief showed. That was when he beat me." She drew her knees up so her feet rested on the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around her body, hugging her knees closer. "Then after he was done, he said I still had to be punished for fighting him earlier. He told me that you would carry the burden for that mistake. Then he brought me back here."

* * *

><p>That night, Olivia woke to the sound of Alex crying. "Alex?" she whispered quietly enough that Alex could choose to ignore it if she so desired. The crying stopped with a soft hiccup. Olivia reached slowly over to Alex's side of the bed; her fingertips brushed lightly against the fabric of Alex's shirt.<p>

Alex felt Olivia's touch and thought that her heart might break with the pain of everything that had happened to both of them. Her hand sought out Olivia's and squeezed. Olivia returned the grip.

Before Olivia knew what was happening, a blonde head was pressed against her, resting right under her chin. Alex's hands were tucked protectively over her chest as she turned to Olivia and let her tears run free. Then Olivia's arms were wrapped tightly around her, holding her close. "It's alright," Olivia assured. "It's alright, Alex, I've got you." She ran one hand through the long, soft hair. She could feel Alex's shaking breath and hear the pounding of her heart.

"I'm sorry, Liv," Alex wept. "I was so scared and I didn't know what to do."

Olivia pressed her lips to Alex's head. "It wasn't your fault, Alex. It's alright now. I'm scared too but we're in this together."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I mention the Daily Show with John Stewart. I don't own it.

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><p>Olivia woke to the sound of quiet voices. She carefully eased away from Alex as she sat up and looked around. At some point while they had slept, someone had placed a television on a small table just on the other side of the gate. The remote had been pushed through the chain link onto her and Alex's side of the fence.<p>

She slipped over and picked up the remote, turning up the volume a little. The afternoon news was on. Olivia glanced back toward the bed where she had just woken up from a full night's – day's? – sleep. Apparently having been so long separated from contact with the outside world had seriously distorted her perception of time.

It didn't take much longer for Alex to wake up and come join her. Olivia didn't turn as she heard Alex approach. "We're still in New York," she stated simply. "All the local news and weather is about the city."

"That's something." Alex nodded at the screen, where it looked like reporters were gathering outside 1PP. "They say what's going on?"

Olivia nodded. "One of the anchors said something about a serial kiddy-rapist in the Five Burroughs. They're waiting on SVU to make a statement." They watched together as Cragen announced that they had identified the "Honey Rapist."

"Who's that?" Olivia asked, pointing at a red-head in the left corner of the screen, behind Cragen.

Alex squinted a little at the screen. "Looks like Casey Novak," she replied. "She's the ADA with White Collar Crimes, but I know that she's been trying to get out of there and move to something a little heavier. I'd imagine she is filling in for me." The realization that they were already being replaced was a sobering thought. "Who do you think is on our case?"

Olivia shook her head. "I don't know," she sighed. "Maybe Major Case – Goren and Eames would do a good job. Homicide might take it because of Elliot. DEA might lobby either for their investigators to take it or to hand it over to the Feds. Who knows? An NYPD detective dead and another missing, along with a District Attorney… it's bound to be a high profile case. And you know how those turn into jurisdictional clusterfucks. I just hope whoever's _got _the case is doing something."

* * *

><p>The mood at the 1-6 was somber in the days following Elliot's death and Liv and Alex's disappearances. The precinct felt empty without them. Fin and Munch were angry when Cragen introduced them to the two new detectives. They wanted to protest, but they knew that they would never have been able to handle Liv and Elliot's caseload in addition to their own. As much as Cragen hated to say it and they hated to hear it, facts were facts: Elliot was dead and Olivia was missing, with no leads on where to find her.<p>

The new ADA was a handful too – pushy and over-involved in their cases. She showed up at crime scenes and insisted on being involved at every level of the investigation. Fin and Munch both resented her presence until that day at the docks.

They were chasing the "Honey Rapist," who poured honey over his penis to entice young girls. Fin had caught him as he ran down the dock and Munch had gone ahead to inspect the boat, where they suspected he was holding a kidnapped 6-year-old girl. Fin had just cuffed Peter Nestler when he saw Casey Novak fling open the lid on the ice chest he had been lugging down the dock.

"Courtney!" Casey reached down carefully, scooping the girl up in her arms. The thin arms reached weakly up and wrapped around her neck. Casey lifted the child out of the cooler and hugged her to her chest. "It's okay, Courtney," she whispered, her lips pressed against the girl's hair. "I've got you." She looked at Fin and Munch as they approached. "She's alive," she said succinctly, then turned and walked up the dock with the child cradled in her arms.

Fin's doubts about the new ADA vanished the moment he saw that look of pure compassion and sheer panic on her face. She might be a ball-busting lawyer, but anyone who picked up a hurt child like that was alright in his book.

Later that night, he stopped by her office. Her green eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She looked up when he knocked and hastily wiped her face as the door opened. "Come in," she called. Fin stepped through the door and leaned up against the wall. "Detective Tutuola," Casey acknowledged.

"It's Fin," he corrected. "How you holdin' up?" Casey lifted her shoulders a little and let them drop.

"Is it always like this?" she asked. "All this sickness and perversion… how do you deal with it? Do you ever get used to it?"

"Naw," Fin replied, shaking his head gently. "It rips your guts out every day. The day you get used to it is the day you need to transfer out."

"How do you guys do it?"

Fin cocked his head to the side and looked at her evenly. "Somebody has to," he stated simply.

Both of her elbows rested on her desk and Casey leaned in, massaging her temples. "I don't know if I can handle it," she confessed. "I wanted straight homicide. All the glory and no living victims, you know?"

"I came from Narcotics, I know. SVU is a whole different ballgame. In Narcotics, it's simple. You've got dealers and junkies. Here… nothing is clean cut. Nothing is ever just black and white." Casey didn't respond. "You can do this." He stated as he turned and opened the door to walk out.

"How do you know?" Casey's voice stopped him."

"Because you think you can't," Fin answered without turning around. He slipped out and shut the door behind him and was gone.

* * *

><p>The Daily Show was almost halfway over when Zapata appeared. Olivia and Alex had spent the afternoon and evening watching TV. They were laughing at something John Stewart had said when Zapata's voice broke their veneer of normalcy.<p>

"Alexandra, come here." Alex's skin crawled every time she heard him saw her name and she was fairly sure that he used her full name just because he saw that it bothered her. Alex shifted away from Olivia, but was caught by Olivia's strong grip around her arm.

"Stop. You can't," Olivia whispered.

"I have to, Liv." Alex replied evenly. Her voice was steady, though Olivia could hear a layer of fear beneath her calm façade.

"Not for me. They can do what they want to me, but don't you give into them. Don't give up."

"Alexandra," Zapata warned. "You know what will happen if you keep me waiting."

Alex stood up, shaking free of Olivia's grip. Olivia got to her feet as well and planted herself firmly between Alex and Zapata, pushing Alex behind her.

"Liv," Alex's hand rested gently on Olivia's shoulder. "I can… endure… what I must. I can deal with my own pain. What I can't deal with," she pulled Olivia around to face her, "is causing yours." Olivia opened her mouth to protest, but Alex cut her off. "Please," she whispered, "Don't make this harder for me than it already is."

That gave Olivia's pause. She looked closer at Alex and saw how, though her jaw was set firm with stubbornness, her pupils were dilated and her eyes wide with fear. Her hand was cold on Olivia's shoulder and her face was pale. "If I don't, he will just force me and punish you," Alex reminded her. Olivia shook her head slightly, but Alex could see her wavering. "Let me go," she said softly. "Let me protect you."

Alex lightly pushed Olivia away, turning her out of her path. She felt dizzy as she walked forward, trying to project a confidence and strength that she did not feel. Zapata's triumphant smile made her want to vomit. It took everything she had not to turn and run. But the memory of Olivia, trapped on the ground and screaming while five men took their turns with her, was seared into her mind. Alex knew that she would do almost anything to make sure that didn't happen again.

Zapata's elation lasted just up until he threw Alex onto the bed. It had been fun to manipulate her, fun to force her to come to him willingly. But her body was limp as he flung her onto the mattress. He pulled her clothes off; she did not fight him, but she didn't do anything else either. Zapata growled and slapped her across the face. A tiny whimper escaped her lips as he connected hard with the bruises he had left yesterday. The strong blue eyes watched him, neither begging him for mercy nor fighting him for freedom.

He felt a familiar rage boiling in his chest. She didn't respect him. She still thought she was better than him; still thought she was too good for him. _I'll show her,_ he thought fiercely. He dragged her up the bed and secured her wrists in the restraints, then did the same with her ankles. There was still no reaction from her. He felt her eyes on him and looked down at her. She was watching him, her steady gaze unblinking. _Soon,_ he promised himself, _soon I will see her crying and begging - screaming in pain and pleading that she will do anything I want if only I make it stop. _He ran his hand down her face. He could feel the tension where her jaw locked and her teeth ground together. Despite her passive exterior, he could feel her fear rolling off of her in waves. It wasn't enough, though. He ran his thumb over her pursed lips and imagined the same lips wrapped around the head of his cock.

"Soon," he whispered into Alex's ear. "We'll get there soon enough. After all, we're still only getting started." Alex didn't know what he was talking about, but she felt a chill run down her spine.

* * *

><p>Cragen sat alone on the bleachers at the field in Queens where the Stabler children had learned to play soccer. Earlier that day, he had received a particularly cryptic note from Kathy giving him directions to meet her here. He had more than enough work to do at the station, what with breaking in two new detectives and dealing with the new ADA, but any request from the widow of one of his best detectives merited his attention.<p>

Kathy slid into the seat next to him. Cragen glanced over at her; her face had that haggard look of someone who spent had spent hours crying. Her skin was sunken in under her cheekbones and the dark circles under her eyes threatened to swallow up her face. Cragen remembered his own wife's death; he had sought comfort in a bottle, but he still remembered the days when it seems like he could barely get out of bed without weeping for the loss.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Stabler?" Cragen asked.

Kathy hesitated and glanced around fearfully before she spoke. "I need to speak with my husband."

Cragen lifted his eyebrows a little as he processed her words. "That's, um…" he stopped himself. _Everyone handles grief differently_.

"I was hoping you might have a phone number or something where I could reach him."

"I'm sorry," Cragen said softly, "I don't think I can help you." _I don't know of any phone company whose service reaches that far._

"Please. You have to!" Kathy pleaded. Her eyes filled with fresh tears. "I think I made the wrong decision."

Cragen looked at her askance, "What do you mean?"

"I should be with my husband," Kathy stated, "I need to go to him."

Cragen turned, shifting on the thin, uncomfortable metal bench to look straight at her. "Mrs. Stabler, I understand this is a difficult time." He reached over and took her hand in both of his; her fingers were ice cold. "But I don't think that Elliot would have wanted you to turn to suicide."

"Suicide?" She looked at him like he had grown a second head and Cragen mentally raced back through their short conversation, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. "You mean," Kathy's voice dropped to a whisper and she furtively scanned their surroundings. "They didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Cragen asked. _Now I'm lost…_

"Elliot's not dead. He's in Witness Protection."


	8. Chapter 8

A week passed. Having the TV was good for that much at least – it gave them some awareness of the passage of time outside of the empty monotony of their cell. Zapata took Alex away at least once every day. Every time she came back, she was silent and withdrawn. Sometimes she would talk haltingly with Olivia about what had happened and sometimes she would just sit down with her back against the wall, wrap her arms around her knees and stare into space for hours.

Olivia spent most of her time feeling completely useless. Twice she had disregarded Alex's instructions not to fight with Zapata; twice she had tried to stop Alex from going with him. On both of those days, Alex had come back with more fresh bruises than usual. Olivia had felt so guilty that when Alex asked her to swear not to do it again, she agreed.

A few days ago, one of Zapata's men had given them a pad of paper and a sharpie (pens or pencils had points that could be used as weapons) so that they could make a list of anything they might need. On the one hand, it was good to be able to get certain things like better food, better fitting clothes, more blankets (with winter coming, the nights were getting increasingly colder) and other amenities. On the other hand, every time one of them put something on their "shopping list," it reminded them both of how powerless they were and how much they depended on Zapata and his men to keep them alive.

* * *

><p>Zapata was enraged. He was constantly being reminded that he was not in control. Cesar Velez was furious with him for having attracted so much attention by murdering that slut of his and then complicating it further by killing the DEA agent and kidnapping those two women. Zapata had managed to bribe and threaten his way into being released on bail and his lawyer was currently filing motion after motion on his behalf to delay the proceedings. There was precious little evidence to tie him to the car bomb that had killed the DEA evidence and most of it was circumstantial rather than solid physical evidence. But Zapata knew that as soon as he resurfaced to appear for his court date, he would be questioned about the disappearance of Cabot and Benson. And the longer he stayed underground, the more his control over his men would deteriorate. As of now, he had assigned most of his regular duties to his right-hand man, Raul Sepulveda. Raul would take care of things for him until the dust settled, the charges against him were dismissed, and he could come back to his normal duties as Velez's top man in the United States.<p>

If there was one thing Zapata hated, it was losing control. And right now, he felt like he had no control. Even with his Alexandra, he could see in her eyes that she knew. She knew that the only control he had over her was what she chose to give him. She chose to come to him rather than see him condemn her friend to be brutalized. She chose not to resist in order to protect herself and that cop.

Zapata scowled. As long as Alexandra thought that she was coming to him by choice – as long as she thought she had a choice – she would never be completely under his control. He would have to change that.

He pulled up his email on his laptop and shot a quick message to Raul: _Need full background info on Olivia Benson. Also, every week pick a captain who did a good job that week. He can have Benson for 24 hours. _He went on to inquire about the current state of business and to give his orders regarding the various issues that Raul had emailed him about earlier.

Zapata sat back after he clicked send. He felt good about this. He already had a background on Alexandra – he had had that pulled before he ordered her abduction. Maybe now with information on Benson, he would find some way to break the two of them. And Alex would see that she was powerless to stop her friend from being raped. If she cooperated with him, maybe it would stay at only one man a week. If she didn't, things would get worse.

* * *

><p>That night, when Zapata went to get Alex, he had planned something a little different from their usual activities. As usual, she did not resist him when he called for her. Olivia shot a look of pure rage at him, but did nothing. Alex came with him and did not fight as he commanded her to undress and then tied her down on the bed. She said nothing, but her eyes spoke volumes. She was furious, but not terrified. She thought that she could hold herself above all this – above him. Tonight he would show her something different.<p>

Zapata sat on the edge of the bed beside her and traced one hand absently between the valley of her breasts. He enjoyed the feel of her skin. It was so soft, so smooth… He loved the change in color when he touched her; it was amazing how quickly the porcelain white changed to red when he slapped her and then to a deep blue when he bruised her. Right now, her face was pale. He could practically see the blue rivers rushing beneath the delicate skin at the pulse point in her neck.

He ran his hand back up her body, his fingers caressing her and raising goosebumps on her bare flesh. The skin over her stomach was taut, even more now than it had been when she first arrived the better part of two weeks before. Zapata frowned a little; he would have to make sure they were being properly supplied with food. He liked his women fit, not skeletal.

Alex sucked in her breath as his hand traced back up over her collarbone, along the side of her neck, and up across her cheek to rest with his fingertips lightly pressed against her lips. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could hear the blood coursing behind her ears. Her mouth was dry as she anticipated what was about to come.

She wondered which direction the abuse would go today. Livia Sandoval had been right when she mocked his performance, though she had paid for that mistake with her life. Zapata could only get it up about half the time; on the days when he couldn't achieve an erection, he took his frustration out by beating her. When he did manage to get it up (whether naturally or with the help of a little, blue pill), he was fast and rough. His hands left bruises where he gripped her arms to hold her down, even though she wasn't struggling. Or he held her tight by her hips, lifting her lower back off the bed as he rammed into her. However he did it, it always hurt.

Alex blinked her eyes closed to hide the tears that she could feel sneaking up on her. _It will be over soon_, she told herself as she tried to ignore his fingers tracing her mouth in an unexpectedly intimate gesture. _It will be over soon and then I can go back to Olivia._ As the days passed, it was surprising how their cement room became less of a prison and more a place of refuge.

She felt him shift on the bed, moving his hand back down her body to rest on the nest of blonde curls between her legs. His fingers curled in toward her, brushing over her sensitive skin. "We're going to do something a little different today," Zapata purred.

Alex kept her eyes closed for a few more seconds, until she was sure that she had pushed any trace of tears away. She would not cry. Not in front of him.

"We're going to play a game."

_Oh fuck. _Alex was not usually given to coarse language, not even in her own thoughts. Her eyes fluttered closed again for a brief second as she gathered herself, waiting to hear what new perversities he had devised. He didn't say anything else though and Alex didn't have to wait long to discern what he had in mind. She heard the vibrator before she felt it. He was going to make her own body betray her. Alex pursed her lips together to keep from making any noise as she felt him run the tip of the vibrator along the outside of her folds, teasing her body into response.

There was a spot of water damage on the ceiling above her. Alex focused her eyes on that stain as she tried to ignore the heat pulsing inside her.

When he pressed the vibrator directly against her clit, Alex hissed through her teeth. It was too much, the vibrations too hard, the sensation was more painful than pleasurable. Her back arched involuntarily and she tried to pull her hips back or twist to the side – anything to escape the direct contact that Zapata was relentlessly holding on her clit. It hurt and Alex felt her eyes stinging. She still refused to cry.

It took a while. Zapata got frustrated a couple times and paused in his ministrations to slap her. But eventually Alex felt her body tense. Every nerve in her body was on high alert and she could feel waves of intense pleasure pulsing in her core. Her legs tugged against the restraints and her hands gripped the sheets as her orgasm crashed over her.

Just as her lips opened to release an involuntary moan, every nerve in her body was struck with a shooting pain. It felt like every cell in her body was buzzing. Her muscles seized. Alex wanted to scream but suddenly found that she couldn't make a sound. She couldn't move. Her whole body was stiff and immobile with her back arched off the bed, her arms tensed as they pulled against the restraint, her knees up and her legs splayed open. Only when Zapata released the taser did she collapse onto the bed, every muscle limp.

Alex fought the sobs that threatened to wrack her body. She felt a cascade of tears pooling behind her eyes and knew that once they started, she would not be able to stop them. Her chest felt empty and hollow as she tried to force back her sobs. "I _hate_ you," she hissed, finally managing to suppress the need to cry and channel it into something else.

Zapata laughed and tweaked her nipple roughly between his thumb and forefinger. "Good," he replied. "Now let me explain the rules of my new game… I am going to make you cum for me over and over again." He leaned over to whisper in her ear, "I want to hear you scream my name when you cum." Alex jerked her head away from him, twisting to the side. He grabbed her violently and Alex knew she would have bruises where his fingers clenched her jaw. "If you don't… if you insist on being stubborn… then you will be tased every time you climax."

It didn't take as long for him to make her orgasm again because her body was already aroused. Alex hoped that it would hurt less – that, now that she knew what was coming, she would be able to steel herself against it. It didn't help. It hurt just as much the second time as it had the first. The third time hurt more and the forth the worst of all. Sometime after that, she passed out.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until much later that night that Zapata opened the response he had received from Raul. He grinned as he read through the information his sources had collected on Olivia. <em>I can have some fun with this<em>, he thought.

* * *

><p>Elliot had never felt so incredibly useless and out of place in his entire life. He didn't belong in this little town; he belonged in New York. He belonged with his children. He belonged in Queens with Kathy and in Manhattan with Olivia. He belonged in a precinct interrogating suspects and out on the street tracking down leads. But where he belonged was precisely where he was not allowed to be. So he was out of place and he was angry.<p>

He found himself at the gym almost every day. His knuckles never fully healed anymore, but had constant, raw sores where he split them open against the punching bag, against the wall, against whatever solid object was there when he needed to vent his frustration.

The Marshall assigned to babysit him had somehow finagled the background check so that Elliot could get a job at a local gun-shop. Elliot knew the Marshall was only trying to help him; he knew that he was forbidden from working in law-enforcement or anything related to it. Elliot knew guns at least, from his time in the Marines and with the NYPD. It was a job he could do, if not one he enjoyed.

He went to Mass at a small Catholic church on the other side of town. Elliot found himself drawn there, to the peace and security of the familiar. Just about every night when he left work he ended up going to the church rather than back to his empty apartment. It was a comfortable place and he liked the young priest there. He felt that his children would have enjoyed the sermons and some of the newer music that Father Patrick was working on incorporating into the service.

As often as Elliot came to this church, though, he had not introduced himself to the priest. He could not give his own name – the Marshalls had drilled that into his head plainly enough. And even though it might seem like a small matter, Elliot did not feel right giving a false name to his priest. It was better to have no name at all than to stand in the House of God and pretend to be someone other than who he really was.

Tonight when he entered the small church, dipped his fingers in the Holy Water and crossed himself, his eyes sought out the Madonna and Child. He stared up at her face as he walked down the aisle, his footsteps the only sound in the building. _I have lost my children_, he thought and his thoughts were a prayer as he slipped into a pew. _I have lost my wife and my children; I have lost my partner. Everything that was good in my life is gone. God, help me! _Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Father Patrick enter the sanctuary.

Father Patrick was young, barely three years out of seminary. Over the past two weeks, he had grown to expect the man who refused to give his name. He knew from the tattoo that the man was a former Marine and Patrick could recognize a fellow Irishman when he saw one. But other than that, all Patrick knew of his new parishioner was that the man came almost every day and that his confession was almost always the same.

"_I have abandoned my wife. I have abandoned my four children. I have failed in my duty to protect my family and for that I am ashamed. I failed to protect those I was sworn to protect and they suffer because of my failure. I have been angry and I desire to do harm to those who threatened my family and my friends. For these and all my sins, I am truly sorry." _

That was it. The man never gave any details and Father Patrick had to confess to a burning curiosity. He would not ask for details, though. The man would share when and if he was ever ready. Patrick knew a troubled soul when he saw one. Whether or not the man opened up to him, Patrick was glad that the man continued to seek solace from God. It might help to talk it out with someone else, but ultimately, only God could offer the peace and absolution that this man required.

Patrick slipped into a pew a few rows behind Elliot, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb the man's prayers.

"Father," Elliot said.

"My son." Patrick still felt a little strange using the formal terms of address. Perhaps after he had a few more years in the priesthood, it would come more naturally. Besides, he didn't even know this man's name, so he had to call him something.

"I don't want to confess today, Father. I just need to… sit a while."

Patrick nodded. "Sit. And I will sit with you."


	9. Chapter 9

When Alex woke up, she was back in the room that she shared with Olivia. She knew that even without opening her eyes. She had been vaguely aware as someone carried her back here and deposited her unceremoniously on the floor just inside the gate. He had thrown her clothes down in a heap beside her. Alex was cold and ached all over. It hurt too much to move. Even the simple expansion of her ribcage as she breathed was painful.

Alex could feel the cool floor beneath her. One of her arms was pinned under her body at an almost painful angle. But even the thought of moving was too much to consider, so Alex simply lay there for a moment as if she could force the pain away just by concentrating hard enough. "Liv." She hadn't intended to say anything, but Olivia's name slipped past her lips in a whimper. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. _Olivia would come and help her. Olivia would talk with her or just sit with her until the pain passed. Olivia would make it easier for her to bear._

But no footsteps approached. Alex couldn't hear Olivia nearby. She opened her eyes and managed to push her aching body into a sitting position. She looked around the room. Olivia was not there. She was alone.

* * *

><p>Olivia was also alone. Not long after Zapata had come for Alex, some of his men had come for her. They dragged her to a room that was about the size of a janitorial closet, threw her inside, and locked the door behind her.<p>

The room was empty. There were concrete floors and walls and a concrete ceiling with a single florescent light overhead. There was a thick door that refused to budge no matter how hard Olivia pushed. She tried for a while before she finally gave up on forcing her way out. She rubbed her shoulder and upper arm absently. She was almost surprised that she had not dislocated or seriously injured herself with the number of times she had rammed her body against the door.

There was a cartoon of water bottles on the floor along with a loaf of store-bought bread and a bag of Gala apples. Taped to the loaf of bread was a short note: _Ration your food. You might be here a while. –Z. _

Ten minutes later, Olivia heard someone walk by the other side of the door. Whoever it was hit the light switch and Olivia was plunged into darkness. The footsteps receded.

* * *

><p>It took Alex almost an hour to gather the strength to stand after Zapata had dumped her back inside her and Olivia's room. She just managed to stand long enough to take a shower. She felt sure that if she sat down as the water poured over her abused form, she would not find it in her to stand back up again. She did not even take the time and energy to dry off and get dressed. She slipped naked into the queen-sized bed and rolled over so that she lay against the wall, leaving Olivia's side of the bed open. The bed felt empty. The room felt empty. Alex felt empty. Her heart was consumed with a pain that she didn't know how to deal with. She knew that if Olivia was there, the seasoned detective would find some way to comfort her. Olivia would tell her that it wasn't her fault that she had orgasmed – not just once, but four or five times. But Olivia was not there and that scared Alex more than she could say. She had no way of knowing where Olivia was, if she was safe, if she was hurt, or if she was even alive.<p>

* * *

><p>It had been well over a week since the funeral. Kathy agonized over her decision and had picked up the phone to call the Marshalls a dozen times. She always hung up before anyone answered.<p>

The kids seemed to be doing as well as could be expected. They had all stayed home from school for several days; Dickie was the first to say he wanted to go back. Lizzie, of course, wanted to go back to school as soon as she heard her brother was going. School was a routine; it became something to keep their minds off their loss. Maureen wanted to stay home and be with Kathy. Ultimately it was Kathy who told her oldest daughter that it was time to go back to school, that it was important that they keep going with their lives – their father would have wanted that. Kathleen didn't want to talk to any of them. She was withdrawn and sullen most of the time, prone to outbursts of tears and anger at other times. From what Kathy had read, this was a normal method of coping with grief, so she tried not to worry too much about the headstrong fourteen year-old.

Kathy felt horrible for lying to her children about their father's death. It was a guilt that weighed on her terribly. She couldn't sleep and could barely eat. Even after she sent her children back to school, she couldn't bring herself to go back to work. The house was empty. _So many times I was angry with him for not being here_, Kathy thought over and over again. _I was upset that his work took him away so often, made him distant from our family. And now I don't know if that is a distance he will ever be able to come back from._ She cried herself to sleep every night and the last thought in her mind as she slipped into her own tormented dreams was her husband's name: "Elliot…"

The detectives who were working on the case called every day. At first, they were hopeful. _"Mrs. Stabler, we believe we can identify the shooter's vehicle. Mrs. Stabler, we have the bullet in our lab for analysis; that may lead us to the specific weapon. Mrs. Stabler,…" _Kathy grew to dread those phone calls. For all the pretense at hopefulness, she knew there was no solid evidence. She knew, as did everyone working on the case, that the drug lord who Elliot's team had been investigating was responsible. They just had no way to prove it. And until they could prove it and arrest the bastard, her husband was dead.

* * *

><p>When Alex woke up the next morning, she groaned. She couldn't remember ever being this sore. Every inch of her body ached and it still hurt to move. She woke up alone in a bed that suddenly felt entirely too big for just her. She had stayed on her side of the bed the whole night, but she woke with one hand stretched out over onto Olivia's side. She stayed in bed, her eyes closed. They had gotten into the habit of leaving the TV on all day and all night. The constant noise served to distract them from the hopelessness that sometimes threatened to consume them. Also, since they both woke frequently throughout the nights with their own nightmares, it was easier to leave the TV on than for whomever had woken to disturb the other by getting up to turn it on in the middle of the night. One of the newscasters mentioned the time: it was after 10am. Alex had slept for over fourteen hours.<p>

She rolled back toward the wall and pressed her palm against the smooth surface. It was cool to the touch. Alex closed her eyes and imagined for a moment that she could just press hard and slip through the thick walls. She would be able to find Olivia. She would be able to get them both out.

_Get a hold of yourself, Cabot,_ Alex rebuked herself sternly. _Engaging in flights of fantasy is not going to help you or Olivia. _Her traitorous mind wondered for a moment if perhaps Zapata had had Olivia killed. He had made it clear from the beginning that he had no particular need for her. _No. She's alive. She has to be alive._ Alex refused to accept any alternative. _Every time he's hurt her, it's been to manipulate me – to punish me or to force my compliance. He probably took her away because…_ Alex abruptly halted that train of thought. The memories of the day before were still too fresh and the constant ache in her muscles reminded her all too well of what had happened. _So if I want to get her back, I have to…_ Again she stopped, revolted and ashamed at the memory of what Zapata had demanded of her. _I have to. If it will keep Liv safe, I have to_, she told herself.

_You don't know that it will do anything to help,_ another part of her argued. _For all you know, she could already be dead. – No, no, I can't think like that! I have to believe that she is safe... or at least alive… until I know something to the contrary. _

* * *

><p>When Zapata appeared on the other side of the gate, Alex jumped to her feet, forgetting that she was sill naked from the night before. "Where is she?" Alex demanded.<p>

Zapata grinned. "I see you're ready for me," he said as his eyes raked over her nude form. Alex's expression did not change, but a soft flush climbed in her cheeks. A beat passed and her palms started sweating. Alex crossed her arms over her chest; each of her hands gripped the opposing arm with her index fingers lying parallel to the upper arm, pointing toward her shoulders. Zapata stepped toward her, closing in on her. Alex closed her eyes, resisting the urge to step back. _I will not back down. I will not show fear._ When she opened her eyes, he was right in front of her.

"Tell me she's alright." Alex could hear the fear in her voice, the subtle plea for him to give her hope. She hated that she sounded afraid.

"She is alive for now," he said. Alex was tempted to ask what it would cost her to get Olivia back – she knew by now how Zapata's games worked. She didn't say anything. She knew what he wanted.

* * *

><p>Alex didn't give in that day. She knew that she probably should have – for Olivia's sake – but she couldn't. Just like the previous day, Zapata repeatedly brought her to orgasm and then tasered her right as she climaxed. After the third time, he put the vibrator and the taser aside and crawled on top of her. Alex was tied facedown, her cheek pressed into the pillow. She had been crying. The only way she could excuse that lack of control was that he couldn't see her face. He couldn't see the tear-tracks or feel the dampness of the fabric beneath her. All he was interested in at the moment was her ass. Alex caught her lower lip between her teeth; she didn't realize how much pressure she was applying until she tasted iron.<p>

Zapata sat up and untied the restraints around her ankles. Alex instinctively pulled her legs closed. He laughed. "Come on, sweetheart. I've spent the last two hours getting you off. It's your turn to return the favor. Spread 'em." He slapped her and admired his handiwork as a red handprint materialized. He plunged his hand between her thighs and pried her legs apart.

After he was done, Zapata collapsed on top of her. Alex's tears had long since dried. "Your friend is still alive, you know," he panted in her ear. "She's probably not happy, but she's alive at least." The words were on the tip of her tongue again, but Alex resisted asking. "You know," Zapata said, "if you would just stop fighting me, maybe I might bring her back."

"_Maybe I might bring her back."_ Alex didn't like the noncommittal statement. "'Maybe' isn't good enough." It was very difficult to project any degree of control over the situation when she was naked and tied down with Zapata still limp inside her, his dead weight pinning her down. Alex tried to sound as assertive as possible, "Bring her back and I'll do whatever you want."

"No." Zapata shook his head and Alex felt his stubble scratch the skin over her shoulder and neck. "That's not how this works. You do what I want you to anyway and I'll decide when or if to let you see her again."

* * *

><p>It happened the following day. Alex had orgasmed once and been tasered once already. She felt the second orgasm building and moaned as her back arched up off the bed. "Za- p'ta," she ground out. She had not said his name since the first day they had been captured: she and Olivia had both tacitly avoided it. Alex never would have believed that it could hurt so much just to say a single word. She felt as if it cost her a piece of her very soul.<p>

Alex's chest heaved and her neck and face were flushed as she slowly came back to reality. Zapata placed his hands on the bed on either side of her head as he hovered over her. Alex's nostrils flared a little. She could smell her own unique scent on his fingers. That thought made her stomach curl.

"In bed, you can call me 'Rafael,'" he said.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **It's a short chapter. For the next 3 weeks I am going to be visiting with family and driving 3000 miles to a new apartment, new school, and new job. So it might take a while before life settles down enough to resume writing. I will try to keep writing even over the next few weeks, but since I'll be either staying with relatives or driving 12 hours a day, we'll see how that goes.

In the meantime, you are all welcome to flood my email with lots of **Review** alerts.


	10. Chapter 10

Six days. It had been six days since Alex had seen Olivia and she still clung to the hope that the detective was alive and safe somewhere. Six lonely, painful days. There was no point in fighting Zapata any more. He punished her harshly for any disobedience – real or perceived – and Alex knew that she had to do what he wanted if she ever wanted to see Olivia again.

So when Zapata blindfolded her and fit a pair of headphones over her ears, Alex did not resist. Even when he turned on the MP3 player and her ears were filled with the sounds of her own screams from some of their previous sessions, she did not react. Her face was stone cold and she simply waited to find out what new way Zapata had come up with to hurt her. A few days ago, she would have felt like crying. She had long passed that point however – the anguish that filled her was too much to be expressed in simple tears.

Several minutes elapsed before she felt Zapata's hands resting on her arms. He hadn't even bothered to tie her down today. He knew that she would not move without his permission. A second later, she felt another body settle between her bare legs. Alex tensed. Zapata had never before brought in another person. The few times he had noticed his men groping her on the way to or from her cell, he had been furious. Zapata was nothing if not fiercely possessive.

Alex waited, barely daring to breath. She heard muffled voices, but couldn't make out the words. She felt Zapata's hands move down her arm and take her by the hand. He grabbed one of her fingers and jerked it back. Alex pressed her lips closed but couldn't stop the muffled scream that tore through her as her finger snapped. Zapata slapped her. Alex bit her lower lip until she tasted iron. She did not dare move or make a sound. He took hold of another finger and paused. Alex held her breath. The second wave of pain was as vicious as the first, but Alex managed to bit back her scream. The only sound that slipped past her lips was a soft, broken whimper.

She felt the person between her legs shift a little on the bed and then a mouth touched her inner thigh. Alex resisted the urge to pull away. The lips were dry as they closed over her skin. They traced gently toward her center and Alex could feel the soft breath blowing against her core. A warm tongue slipped out and brushed over her silky folds and up to her clit. Alex gasped.

* * *

><p>When Zapata's guards escorted her back to the room later, Alex was limping. Her eyes were glued to her feet as she shuffled through the gate. Her left arm was cradled against her chest. Both her ring finger and her middle finger were swollen and throbbed painfully. Alex tried to move them but they did not respond. Zapata's men pushed her forward and she heard them lock the gate behind her.<p>

Alex stood stock still. It was all she could do just to keep breathing and not completely break down. Someone's tongue – she didn't know whose – had teased her to orgasm while Zapata watched. Alex had been blindfolded and forced to listen to recordings of her own screams the entire time. She'd screamed his name when she orgasmed – he had spent the past week conditioning her to cry out his name every time she came. If she didn't, she was always punished severely.

Afterward, when he had removed the headphones and given her permission to take off the blindfold, they were alone again. He had dragged her off the bed, pushed her to her knees, and thrust himself in her mouth. She must not have pleased him sufficiently because, after he came deep in her throat, he threw her facedown across the bed and beat her with a belt until her back was more red than white.

As she stood there, Alex realized that, in addition to the usual background noise from the TV, she could hear water running. She looked up.

Olivia was back. The detective was naked, her arms tied to the showerhead above her. Her head hung down and her hair was plastered to her face.

Alex rushed across the room, despite the pain between her legs. "_Liv_," she breathed. Olivia did not seem to be aware of her presence until Alex stepped into the shower. Her head snapped up and for a moment, her eyes met with Alex's. Alex was shocked at the change in her friend. Olivia's face was gaunt and drawn. Her eyes were filled with fear and pain. When Alex reached up to try to untie her, Olivia flinched away,

"Don't touch me," she rasped.

Alex pulled back. "It's just me, Liv," she reassured. "I'm not going to hurt you." She didn't know what had happened to Olivia while they had been separated, but she didn't want to do anything to scare her. She looked up. The ropes around Olivia's wrists were cutting off circulation and the detective's hands were blotchy and pale with the lack of blood. "I'm just going to untie the ropes, alright?"

Olivia gave a short nod. Alex turned off the water so that she could look up and work on the ropes.

It took a while for Alex to undo the knots. The rope had swollen with water and caused the knots to tighten on themselves. Her left hand was essentially useless and Alex fumbled as she tried one-handed to free her friend.

Olivia's skin was cold and she pulled away whenever Alex accidently brushed against her. "I'm sorry," Alex said the first couple times that happened. Olivia just turned her head to the side and said nothing.

Once she was freed, Olivia dried off and dressed without a word. Alex showered quickly. When she had dressed, Olivia finally spoke. "Come here. Let's see what we can do for your hand."

Alex sat next to her on the bed. Olivia's touch was gentle as she fashioned splints for the two broken fingers. There was medical tape in their first aid kit and she used that to wrap the broken fingers and the index finger together. "Don't try to bend them or use that hand for anything."

"Liv…" Alex didn't know what to say. She had never seen her friend so distant. "Where have you been? What happened?"

Olivia shrugged and looked away. "Nothing." It was mostly true. She had been locked up in the small, dark closet until Zapata came to release her earlier that morning. Time passed slowly in the darkness and the solitude was oppressive. She had tried to save her food and only eat when she was very hungry, but it had run out on the fourth day. The water lasted until the fifth. A man had come in twice. That was the only human contact she'd had the entire time. He came in the dark, raped her in the dark, and left her in the dark. She had never seen his face or even heard his voice.

Having finished her task of tending to Alex's hand, Olivia curled up in the bed and pulled the blankets up over her head. She pressed her face into the pillow and cried.

Alex eventually got into bed next to her. Olivia tensed and scooted all the way to the edge of the bed. Alex wedged herself with her back to the wall. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what had happened or how she could help Olivia. She tentatively reached across the empty space in the middle of the bed. Usually, that gesture would have elicited a mirror response from Olivia. Many times in their captivity, they had fallen asleep holding hands, each desperate for the comfort that came from the knowledge that they were not alone.

Olivia heard the movement, even though she was facing away from Alex. She rolled over and looked at Alex through the dim light. The brunette's eyes were red and there were tear-tracks down her face. "No." Her voice was filled with anguish. "You don't want to touch me." She turned away again.

Alex's confusion was almost palpable. Olivia could feel the unspoken questions and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Neither of them fell asleep for several hours. They each lay in bed, consumed by their own thoughts and listening to the sound of each other's breath. There was a comfort in being together again, but a wall had been erected between them and Alex had no idea what it was.

* * *

><p><em>The room was pitch-black dark. Olivia had no conception of how long she had been trapped in the small room. The food and water were gone and her stomach pinched with hunger. She wondered if they would leave her in the dark to die.<em>

_When Zapata opened the door and turned on the light, Olivia was temporarily blinded. His men grabbed her and dragged her out of the small cell and threw her on the ground at his feet. She was too weak and disoriented to fight. Zapata turned on his heel and walked away. Olivia staggered to her feet. White spots danced before her eyes still, but they were beginning to clear. The guards behind her pushed her forward and she stumbled after Zapata._

_He went into a room. Olivia froze in the doorway. Alex was on the bed. The blonde woman lay with her legs spread and her arms stretched out to the sides. Her chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths. A strip of black cloth covered her eyes and the wire from her earphones led to a CD player on the bed beside her head. Zapata grinned at Olivia as he took his place beside Alex. "Your friend is a very well-behaved whore now," he said. "She doesn't move – doesn't breathe – without my permission." He ran his hands down her arm from collarbone to wrist. "But just for fun, I want to play a little game with you." _

_His men grabbed Olivia by the arms and propelled her toward the bed. They pushed her down between Alex's legs. Olivia tried to get back up, but one of them pulled a gun and held it to her head. Zapata laughed. "I want to see if you can make her cum. So why don't you put that tongue of yours to good use?"_

"_No," Olivia shook her head. "I won't-"_

_Before she finished speaking, Zapata used one beefy arm to pin Alex's hand down while his other hand grabbed her ring finger. He snapped it back and twisted. Alex screamed and her whole body jerked. Olivia could feel the long legs on either side of her shoulder twitch. Zapata slapped her hard across the face and Alex bit off her yell of pain. He looked back at Olivia. "Do it."_

"_Please, no…" Olivia begged, for her sake as much as for Alex's. "I can't. Please don't make me." He moved to another finger. There was a snap and Alex whimpered softly. _

"_You will do what I say you will do," Zapata threatened. "Or do you need another lesson?"_

_The gun against the back of her head pressed down harder, shoving Olivia's face between Alex's legs. Olivia tentatively pressed her lips against Alex's thigh. Alex did not move, but Olivia could feel the tension in her muscles as she fought to stay still. _

"_This should be entertaining," she heard Zapata say to his men. Olivia's face flushed red with shame and fury. "You can go now." The gun lifted away from her and Olivia could hear footsteps receding. The door opened and then thudded closed._

_Olivia flicked her tongue out. Alex tasted sweet, though it was unlike anything Olivia had ever tasted before. She wasn't quite sure that she liked it. She licked gently, thoroughly bathing Alex's lips before moving to her center. Olivia took a deep breath and blew a stream of air across her clit. Alex was getting wet. Olivia knew that even before her fingers touched the moisture pooling in her vagina: she could smell Alex's arousal. _

_She heard Zapata moving around and raised her eyes. She immediately wished that she hadn't. Zapata was seated in a chair next to his desk, holding a video camera. He held a gun loosely in the other hand, as if to remind Olivia that she was powerless to fight him. _

_At first, Olivia tried to think of things that her boyfriends had done to her in the past – certain touches or movements that were pleasurable. But it felt wrong to remember happier sexual encounters in the midst of the situation Zapata had forced them into. So then Olivia just tried not to think. Alex did not move a muscle, but Olivia listened to the sound of her breath and felt her muscles tense and relax. Alex's body provided natural clues to let Olivia know she was doing well._

_Olivia swirled her tongue just inside Alex's entrance as her fingers diligently massaged elsewhere. She heard a soft gasp and felt Alex tilt her hips forward as the small of her back lifted off the bed. Olivia thrust two fingers in to take the place of her tongue at that sensitive spot. She moved her mouth up and closed in over Alex's clit. She sucked hard and flicked her tongue across the bundle of nerves in quick, hard strokes. _

_Alex trembled and her thighs clenched around Olivia. Her back arched and her moans echoed in the small room. She twisted, writhing on the bed as she reached her peak. "Rafael, oh Rafael," she moaned. _

_Olivia pulled away. She felt sick. Everything about what had just happened felt wrong. She sat up and wiped her arm across her face. She was drenched in Alex's juices. Alex was slowly coming down from her orgasm and was gasping in deep shudders of breath. The blonde seemed completely unperturbed by the fact that she had just cried out her rapist's name in the throes of an orgasm. _

_Olivia stood and pushed herself away from the bed. Her stomach clenched painfully and a wave of nausea crashed over her. She turned to the corner and braced her forearm against the wall. Her other hand went to her stomach. Olivia gulped in deep breaths, trying to steady herself. _

_Zapata stood and crossed the room to stand behind her. Olivia turned around. Alex had not moved, though her chest was still heaving. "Did you enjoy yourself?" Zapata asked. He was too close. Olivia could feel his breath against her cheek when he spoke. She turned her face away. She couldn't bear to look at him. Zapata struck her and the harsh smack of flesh on flesh sounded incongruously loud in the otherwise quiet room. "Look at me when I talk to you," he ordered. _

_Olivia spat. Her spit, mingled with the moisture of Alex's arousal, landed on his cheek. _

_Zapata's face twisted in rage. He grabbed her by the hair and flung her around, throwing her on the bed at Alex's feet. "You dare!" he hissed. "You dare disrespect me? You filthy little cunt, you are _mine_! You and she both…" he gestured violently toward Alex. "If I want you to tongue-fuck her six times a day, you will do as I say! If I want to bring in some men and have them line up to fuck you from behind while you have your face shoved in her pretty little cunt, I'll do it!" He gave her a final shove and released her. Olivia slid off the bed and fell to the ground. She could hear him huffing as he fought down his rage. _

"_It's too bad your Detective Stabler is dead," Zapata mused, once again in control of his emotions. Olivia looked up; he was holding the video camera, turning it around ponderously in his hands. "I bet he would have loved to see this. An SVU detective raping our gorgeous little lawyer…" He tsked mockingly. "And your mother must be turning in her grave to see that you ended up being just like your father."_

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><p><strong>AN: **I'm back! This chapter took me forever - I've had this scene in my head since before I started writing this story, but somehow when it came time to write, the words just did not want to go down on paper.

This was a difficult scene to write. It was also my first time writing any female/female action and my first time writing cunnilingus... So, let me know if you think it was good or if you think it sucked.

**Please Review!**


	11. Chapter 11

Zapata was well pleased with himself for his plan with Alexandra and the cop. Alexandra was always compliant when he threatened her friend, so it was good to have the cop around, but the problem was that they comforted each other and encouraged one another to resist him. But now… what he had made her do would always be between them. If he played it right, he could use it to manipulate them both into being his obedient sluts – as Alexandra was already well on her way to becoming. Zapata smiled. This, at least, was working out perfectly.

Other aspects of life were not going as well. Lionel Granger had called the other day to let him know that there were no more extensions to be had. There was a court appearance scheduled for the end of November – only three weeks away. Zapata knew that whenever he showed up at the courthouse, police would be waiting. He needed to find some way to get out of it.

Raul was doing a good job keeping everything moving, but Zapata was worried about that as well. Since he had offered Benson to whichever captain managed to move the most product in his territory, sales had gone up. Of course, even though it had been his idea, Raul got the credit for it. The longer he stayed in hiding, the more his men looked to Raul for leadership and not to him.

Zapata had lately been thinking about taking one of his jets and just heading back to Columbia. But that would create as many problems as it would solve. His value to Velez consisted of his ability to operate within the United States. Now that might no longer be possible. They had no hard evidence to tie him to the car bomb that had killed that DEA agent, but Zapata knew that they would question him about Alexandra and Benson. He had been thinking with the wrong head when he decided to take Alexandra and that decision was costing him. If he went back to Columbia, he might get a good job in Velez's operation on that side – he had the experience to do a good job finding new ways to get product into the states. Or Velez might just decide that he had caused too much trouble and off him.

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><p>When they woke up the next morning, Olivia and Alex did not talk to each other. Olivia was silent and withdrawn and Alex was still absolutely clueless as to why. She tried to coax Olivia into talking, but nothing she said reached the brunette. Alex said nothing about what Zapata had done to her in the past week and the things that he had forced her to do and say. Alex didn't know what was bothering Olivia so much, so she certainly wasn't going to add to the problem by heaping her own problems on the detective.<p>

Zapata's men came for Alex around mid-day. Alex stood and walked to the gate to meet them. Olivia watched. She was silent and her gaze accusatory when she saw Alex go to them without restraints or threats.

An hour later, the same men came back for Olivia. She fought them, but they managed to drag her down and pin her to the ground long enough to clasp a pair of handcuffs over her wrists. They jerked her to her feet and pulled her through the gate, back toward the room she now knew to be Zapata's. "No, no!" Olivia cried as they dragged her forward. She twisted and struggled against their grasp, but could not escape. They stopped before the door and one of the men stepped forward to knock. He rapped his knuckles against the thick wood and Zapata emerged.

He glanced at Olivia, who was still attempting to pull away and free herself. He buried his fist in her stomach and Olivia doubled over with a quiet "umph" of pain. "Shut up," he ordered. Olivia was still doubled over and his men held her by the arms so that she could not move. She spat at his feet.

Zapata seized her by the hair and pulled her face up to his. "You'd better learn to behave yourself," he growled. "I don't tolerate disrespect." There was a snort from one of the men and Zapata glared at him. The man hastily apologized and excused himself, leaving Olivia with only Zapata and one other guard.

"Now then," Zapata turned his attention back to Olivia. "We are going to play the same game we did yesterday."

"No." Olivia felt helpless. Her hands were cuffed behind her back and Zapata's grip on her hair pulled her uncomfortably off balance. "I won't do it. I won't do that to her. Not again."

"If you don't, I'll let Jose here have a go." Zapata nodded to indicate the guard who held an iron grip on Olivia's upper arms. "Although, he does have a bit of a penchant for pain. I'm not sure your precious Alex would enjoy his attention as much as she does yours."

Olivia turned her head to glance at the man behind her. The look on his face was full of excitement – excitement and sadistic lust. Just the thought of him touching Alex – hurting her – was enough to make Olivia feel sick. "No," she whispered.

Zapata smiled. The two women were entirely too predictable. "Oh, and unless you want Alex to know that it is you who is raping her, I'd recommend you keep your mouth shut." He pushed open the door and Jose pushed Olivia inside.

Alex lay curled on her side, facing the wall. She was completely still – even the slow expansion and contraction of her ribcage was barely noticeable. Olivia froze just inside the doorway. Zapata brushed past her.

"Close your eyes and turn over," Zapata barked. Alex rolled onto her back. "Spread your legs. Hands up over your head. Don't open your eyes until I say you can." Alex obeyed without making a sound. There was a large wet-spot on the bed underneath her and her thighs glistened with moisture. "Not fast enough." He turned to smirk at Olivia just before backhanding Alex viciously across the face. Alex gasped in pain and he hit her again. Olivia jerked forward, wanting to do something to stop him. Her hands pulled against the tight metal bracelets, but there was no give. "Apologize!" he commanded Alex.

Alex bit her lip and a glimpse of her inner turmoil flashed across her features. Zapata turned and opened the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a taser. He held it to Alex's neck and her body seized as the electric current passed through her. When he removed it, Alex gasped for air. "I'm sorry," she wheezed. He zapped her again. Alex writhed on the bed as every nerve seared in pain. "I'm sorry, please!" she gasped. "Please, I'll do better, I promise."

Olivia hated this. She hated seeing Alex in pain, hated Zapata for hurting her. She hated hearing Alex beg like this. It wasn't right.

Zapata beckoned her forward. Olivia moved stiffly. She hated everything about this situation. Zapata slipped behind her and undid the handcuffs. He held the taser against the back of her neck as he worked and Olivia ground her teeth together in frustration. Once her hands were freed, Zapata pulled Olivia against him and nuzzled her neck. Olivia curled her hands into fists. If he hadn't had the taser held against her, she would have fought him. But Olivia was familiar with the power and effects of tasers – if she fought him, the jolt of electricity would momentarily incapacitate her. He would regain control, and nothing would be gained. "You know what to do," Zapata murmured into her ear. He pushed her forward.

Olivia felt a stream of hot tears coursing down her cheeks as she approached Alex.

The area between Alex's legs was red and inflamed; she had been dry when Zapata raped her. Olivia brushed her fingertips gently over the swollen flesh. Alex was hot to the touch and flinched away from the intimate contact. "Don't," Alex whispered. "Please don't." Olivia could not bear to look up, but she heard the slap and felt the blow reverberate throughout Alex's body. She couldn't move.

"What are you waiting for?" Zapata asked. "Get on with it."

Olivia didn't move. She could not – would not – do this to Alex.

Then Zapata pressed the taser against Alex again. Alex screamed, writhed, and twisted in pain. Her muscles locked up and her back arched off the bed. When he released the taser, Alex whimpered and she was in so much pain that her words ran together in an endless stream. "No, no, please don't, please, I didn't do anything, please stop, please don't."

Olivia did not even make an effort at holding back her tears now. They ran freely down her face and she could taste the salt on her lips. She looked up and saw that Zapata was staring at her.

"Do it," he mouthed silently.

Olivia took a deep breath. She slid forward and wrapped her arms up under Alex's thighs. Her tongue slipped over Alex's hot center. She was not trying to tease or arouse, only to cool skin that seemed painfully swollen. Olivia could taste the salty, sour, foulness of Zapata's semen. It nearly overwhelmed the sweetness of Alex's natural scent. She detected a subtle tang of iron as well and worried that Zapata might have seriously injured Alex when he pushed into her dry entrance.

Olivia was patient and slow. She knew that Alex was in pain and so she was very careful and tender in her caresses. At first, Alex was tense and cringed away from her touch, but after a while the soothing licks lulled her into a state of relaxation that was less than pain though not yet pleasurable.

Olivia placed her hands gently on Alex's inner thighs, guiding her to spread her legs wider. She ran her tongue along the soft folds and carefully inserted a finger. Alex gasped and her hips spasmed against Olivia's mouth, though she wasn't sure whether Alex was trying to pull away or push against her for more.

She added another finger, pressing upward through the silky heat to find that sensitive spot deep inside. Her mouth closed over Alex's clitoris and she sucked hard, her tongue pushing aside the hood.

Alex moaned and this time Olivia was certain that the blonde's hips were pushing toward her as her body cried for release. She sucked harder and her fingers continued their motion as she used her thumb to massage the tender skin beneath the vagina.

Alex shuddered and gasped. Her whole body trembled as the orgasm overtook her. "_Raphael_," she breathed. Olivia cringed.

Zapata laughed. "Excellent performance," he commended Olivia. She wanted to melt into the floor with shame. He gestured for Olivia to stand up. Once Alex felt the person between her legs move away, she brought her legs together and curled on her side. "I didn't say you could move!" Zapata snapped. There was a hitch in Alex's breathing and she slowly, reluctantly, rolled back to her previous position.

Zapata handcuffed Olivia and pushed her out the door to where Jose was waiting. "Take her back. I'm going to have some more fun with the other one."

Jose scowled at Olivia when he saw her. "You fucking bitch," he said as soon as Zapata had closed the door. He took her by the arm and dragged her toward her and Alex's room. "You cost me my turn with your hot friend." They reached the gate but Jose did not open it. "What are you going to do to make it up to me?"

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><p>Alex did not return to their cell for several more hours. When she did get back, she found Olivia curled up in the bottom on the shower. The hot water was long gone and the brunette was shivering but showed no signs of moving. Alex sighed. Every time she came back to their room, all she wanted was a hot shower to wash away the physical traces of Zapata's abuse.<p>

"Liv, can I get in the shower?" she asked wearily. Olivia didn't seem to have heard, or at least if she had heard, she chose not to respond. "Olivia!"

Olivia's head snapped up and she stared blankly at Alex.

"Shower," Alex said. "I need to get in the shower." She knew that there was no reason to be snapping at Olivia, but she couldn't help it. She was tired. She was sore from constant abuse and humiliated by Zapata's newfound trick of having a mystery person go down on her. She could also feel the beginning pains of menstrual cramps and guessed that the raging hormones associated with PMS probably were not doing much to help her mood.

Olivia stood slowly, pulling up against the shower wall to support her weight. Zapata had not lied when he said that Jose enjoyed inflicting pain. Olivia winced as she settled her full weight on her legs. She managed to walk out of the shower without limping. Alex brushed past her into the small stall and Olivia heard her hissed inhalation as the icy water hit her bare skin.

Olivia went to the pile of clothes beside the bed. Most of the clothing that Zapata's men brought them was too tight or too revealing, but she managed to dig through and find a pair of jeans that fit decently well and a clean shirt. She got dressed and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. The nights kept getting colder. It was early November now; they had been abducted in mid-October. Olivia wondered if there was snow on the ground outside yet. It was a strange thought to realize that she had not seen the sun or the sky in almost three weeks. As much as she hoped for a rescue or a chance to escape, there was a part of her that wondered if she would ever see the sky again.

Not long afterward, Alex crawled into bed. She tucked herself into her usual spot with her back pressed against the wall. Several long minutes passed in silence.

Alex lifted herself up on one elbow and looked at Olivia. The brunette felt the sharp blue eyes boring into her and turned over. "What's going on, Liv?" Alex asked.

"Nothing."

"Are you sure? You've barely said a word since you came back."

Olivia rolled back over, turning her back to Alex. "It's nothing."

"What happened? You can talk to me."

"Nothing _happened_," Olivia stressed. "He threw me in a cold room with no light and just enough food and water for a few days. That was it." _And someone raped me twice and then Zapata forced me to rape you, _she mentally added. "I just don't feel like talking." She pulled the blanket up to her chin and pressed her face down into the pillow. She heard Alex shifting around in bed for a while, trying to get comfortable, but neither one of them spoke again.

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><p>Alex woke to the sound of Olivia retching. She sat up sleepily and brushed her hair back away from her face. Olivia was on her knees in front of the toilet and her body heaved pitifully with each breath.<p>

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly. Olivia looked up. Alex was standing over her. Olivia hadn't even heard her approach.

Olivia nodded as she sat back and leaned against the wall. "I think I just caught a bug or something. There was no heat in that room they locked me in and I didn't have any blankets or anything."

Alex sat down on the floor next to her. She leaned her head on Olivia's shoulder and pretended not to notice when the detective flinched at the contact. Olivia had been jumpy ever since coming back. She avoided speaking and had not even asked after what had happened to Alex while she was gone. It wasn't like her. Alex knew that there was something wrong. She knew that there was something bothering Olivia, she just didn't know what.

"Liv, tell me what's bothering you," Alex asked bluntly. _No point in beating around the bush._ Olivia shifted away, dislodging Alex from her spot at her shoulder. "I know it's something. You're not acting like you."

"You really have to ask?" Olivia retorted. "Jesus, Alex, look around. Look where we are! You know he is never going to let us leave here. And no help is coming. A dozen courts have tried to catch him, but he always slips out of it. Nobody is ever going to find us in here." Although that wasn't the primary concern in her mind, as soon as the words came out of her mouth, Olivia realized how much that had been weighing on her – the idea that they might never get out of here. It was a terrifying concept but one that seemed all too real. There was very little hope of someone finding them and almost no chance of escape. It didn't matter if they obeyed Zapata or not – if he hurt them or not – he would never let them leave alive.

"I know," Alex replied quietly. "I've thought about it too."

"So why should we keep doing what he wants? Wouldn't it be better to keep trying to fight him?" Olivia was trying to convince herself as much as Alex.

"Well that's easy for you to say – you're not the one being dragged out of here and raped every day." The words were out of her mouth before she thought about it and Alex instantly wanted to apologize – to blame PMS for making her say it. But even though her hormones had her on edge, that didn't mean that the underlying resentment hadn't been there to start.

Olivia was furious. _That's not fair._ She felt her fists clench and for a brief moment, wondered if she might lose control and strike Alex. "At least when they rape me," she hissed, "I don't scream out my rapist's name as if he were my lover." She wished that she hadn't said it. She wanted to just take it back. But she couldn't.

The sharp slap echoed off the concrete walls. Alex appeared stunned by what she had just done and Olivia's hand reached up to touch her burning face. They stared at one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Alex's glare faltered. "Liv?" she asked. The anger was gone from her voice, replaced with hesitance and fear. "How do you know about that?"

Olivia froze, unable to speak or think. She flushed deep red with shame. Her silence told Alex the answer.

"No," Alex whispered in disbelief. "No, no… You didn't. Please, _please _tell me you didn't."

"I'm sorry," was all Olivia could say.

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><p><strong>AN** - I did promise that this story would be an A/O Romance. We'll get there eventually. I don't count what Zapata is forcing them to do as being "AO romance" because its not their choice.

I did want them to have this argument, because they are both dealing with a lot. Alex has to deal with the fact that she is being constantly raped while, to her eyes, Olivia has managed to avoid that for the most part. Olivia is a little angry at Alex for giving in to Zapata. Plus, they both have a decent amount of pent up anger/fear/rage/what-have-you, and the only people they can safely express that with is each other.

I'm sorry for any mistakes - I did my final proof over coffee this morning before work. I'll come back and fix if later if I missed anything.

Also, I'm still new to writing any sort of femslash, so I'll happily take advice from more anyone with a little more experience in that field.

**Review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**This chapter has been revised.** After a PM exchange with Badmuts32, I decided to go back and change a few things. Thank you Badmuts32 for an excellent critique! I had rushed the writing the first time through just because I wanted to get this chapter posted. The result was that it was just not as good as usual and the way I had certain things play out was just constructed sloppily. So, I'm sorry. Here is the new and improved version:

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><p>"I'm sorry, Alex. I'm so sorry." Olivia felt helpless beneath the crushing weight of her own guilt. She took half a step forward. She wanted to make this right. She wanted to find some way to do… something. She didn't know what she could do. There was nothing that would make this right.<p>

Alex's eyes turned cold and she stepped back, moving away from Olivia. "Stay away from me."

Olivia looked up into the sharp blue eyes and saw the same icy glare that she had seen the lawyer direct at hundreds of perps before her. "Alex, please…"

"_You!_" The word wrenched its way out of Alex's throat in a painful and helpless cry of anguish. "How could you? You, of all people…" Alex's chest was tight and she didn't know which was stronger: her anger or heartbreak.

Olivia's feet were glued to the ground. "Alex, I'm sorry," she whispered. Alex turned and walked away.

That night, Olivia balled up a spare sweatshirt from the clothes pile and used it as a pillow. She slept on the floor in front of the gate, as far away from the bed as possible. A few extra shirts made a thin pallet that did nothing to ward off the cold that came up through the concrete. Alex watched while Olivia prepared her rough sleeping area, but said nothing. _Of course not_, Olivia thought. _I raped her. She doesn't want anything to do with me. She probably hates me – and it is nothing less than I deserve._

Olivia curled up in a tight ball. The hard floor jabbed painfully against her ribs and shoulder and hips, but Olivia barely felt it. All she could feel was loss and guilt and deep sadness. Countless long and uneasy hours passed before either of them managed to fall asleep.

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><p>The men came in the middle of the night. Alex woke to the sound of a scuffle and running feet. Olivia was cornered in the back part of the room and three men were closing in on her from all sides. Alex watched as Olivia shifted her stance, preparing to take them on. Two of the three men were shorter than the detective and the third was barely her height. But they were all heavily built and they outnumbered her.<p>

Alex could just barely make out Olivia's face in the dim light that filtered in from the larger room beyond the gate. Fear was inscribed on every line of her face. In that moment, Alex forgot everything that had happened between them in the last few days. All she could think about was that this was Olivia, _her _Olivia, and that she was in danger.

One of the men was slinking along the opposite wall, one stalked straight down the center of the room, and the third passed close by the bed as he moved to flank Olivia. He was so intent on his target that he did not see Alex shift and crouch on the bed behind him. Olivia saw her, though, and her eyes flashed with fear. "Alex, _no_!" the detective cried. Alex pounced forward, crashing into him and knocking him to the ground.

The other two men immediately shifted their focus to Alex. She got to her feet. The man underneath her groaned and made no effort to get back up. _I hope he broke something_, Alex thought viciously. She looked up; one of the other men was almost on top of her. His fists were raised. In another life, Alex would have stood her ground. But the past three weeks had changed her and she cowered, shrinking away from the blow that never landed.

Olivia flew in from the side, slamming her body against Alex's attacker and knocking him off course.

The third man swung at Alex. Olivia stepped in between them, pushing Alex to the ground behind her. The blow hit her squarely in the jaw. Olivia stumbled back, tripping over Alex and the man on the ground.

Alex got back to her feet and stood beside Olivia, facing the two attackers. Olivia looked at her in surprise. Alex herself briefly wondered at their situation. The previous night, she had been so furious and so completely shattered by Olivia's revelation that she all she had wanted was to be as far away from the brunette as possible.

But no matter what had happened between them, no matter what Zapata had made Olivia do to her, Alex knew that they needed each other. They depended on each other for survival and for sanity in the midst of the nightmare Zapata had them trapped in. They needed to be there for each other; they needed to fight for each other. It was the only way to cope with everything.

Olivia stepped in front of her, cutting between Alex and the two men. She anchored her feet in a wide stance and crouched slightly, preparing to spring into action. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her fingernails dug into her skin. They were in a standoff and both sides waited for someone to make the first move.

One of the men looked directly at Alex and she felt his eyes burning into her. "You stay out of this," he growled. "It's her we want tonight."

_Not if I can help it_, Alex thought. She tensed, readying for a fight. Alex had long since given up fighting on her own behalf. Zapata had systematically beaten that will out of her. Over and over and over again, he had demonstrated that her attempts to fight him resulted in nothing but more pain. But Alex could still fight for Olivia; Olivia was all she had left to fight for.

But even as Alex was gearing up for a fight, she heard Olivia take a deep breath. "You're not going to hurt Alex?" the brunette asked uncertainly.

The other man let out a loud guffaw. "No, _querida_," he said. "It's you we're here for."

Alex shook her head slowly and Olivia glanced back at her. _No, _Alex thought, _you can't give up. You never give up._

"Alright," Olivia said, relaxing her stance. Alex opened her mouth to protest, but Olivia held out a hand to stop her. "Please, Alex, don't. Not for me – I'm not worth you getting hurt."

One of the men grabbed Olivia by one arm and spun her around, pushing her down against the bed. Olivia did not resist; she bent at the waist when he shoved her down. Her torso rested on the bed as they twisted a coarse length of rope tight around her wrists. She twisted her head to the side and her eyes met with Alex's. "Don't," she whispered.

Alex stood helplessly to the side. Now that Olivia had acquiesced, the men were ignoring her. But Olivia's gaze held her fixed in place. Her expression was resigned and her eyes were filled with guilt and self-loathing. "I'm sorry." Olivia's mouth formed the words but, if there was any sound, it was lost before it reached Alex. "I'm sorry." The second try was a little louder and Alex only barely managed to hear it.

The third man got up off the ground, clutching his side and groaning. One of the others laughed at him. "That's what you get for letting a woman get the drop on you." His fist twisted in Olivia's short hair and he jerked her upright. "Vamanós," he said.

They led her out of the room and out of Alex's sight.

* * *

><p>Olivia stumbled into the dark room and they slammed the door behind her. She couldn't breathe. It was cold and dark and the moment the door had closed, Olivia was struck again with the terror she had felt while locked in here for almost a week. She shifted so that her back was against the wall and slid down to the ground with her knees drawn up under her chin.<p>

_Alex tried to help me. Even after everything – even knowing what I did to her – she still tried to help me._

There was movement in the back of the room. Olivia's eyes tried in vain to pierce the utter darkness. "Who's there?" she asked. She got back to her feet. Her hands were still tied behind her and her fingers scrambled to try to find the knot.

She heard him shuffle toward her; he smelled of sweat and beer. A thick hand reached out and grabbed her by the throat, pushing her back against the wall. "Looks like I won this week," he said.

* * *

><p>In the morning, Olivia woke up alone in the small room. She was shivering and her toes tingled with a thousand needle-stabs of cold. Her fingers were numb, though she couldn't tell if that was because of the cold or if the ropes around her wrist were restricting circulation.<p>

The light was on – that was what had woken her up. The glare from the overhead bulb was too bright and Olivia could not lift her hand to shield her eyes from its force. She squeezed her eyes closed and waited for the dancing lights behind her eyelids to dissipate. The door creaked open and Olivia forced her eyes open.

"Good morning," a voice mocked. Olivia groaned as she sat up. Her shirt was dirty and torn and her jeans were crumpled in a pile beside her. The voice sounded familiar but when Olivia looked up, she didn't recognize his face. "Did you think that last night was all we were going to have?" Now Olivia realized where she knew the voice from – he was the man who had been waiting for her in this room the night before. "No, baby – I won for the week. That means I get you all day."

He liked to inflict pain, Olivia learned. It didn't matter. Nothing could hurt as much as the expression on Alex's face when she realized what Olivia had done. Olivia retreated within herself. She was numb to his assault. Even when he got tired of slapping her around and pulled out a knife, Olivia did not react.

_Maybe he will go too far_. She almost hoped that he would. It would be easier – a quick escape from this place. It would mean an escape from the pain. It would mean an escape from Zapata's plans to use her against Alex. _Alex._ Olivia gasped in pain and the man above her grinned wickedly. _I can't die – that would mean leaving Alex alone here. I can't do that._

She rolled on the ground, trying to twist away from the man with the knife. _Shit._ She was weak. She was losing more blood than she realized. She guessed that she had lost little more than a cup of blood, though it looked like a lot more than that when it covered her skin and smeared on the ground beneath her.

She managed to pull away from him, although in her weakened state she suspected that the only reason she succeeded was because he allowed her to. She pushed herself up to her hands and knees and felt a wave of vertigo crash over her. Olivia cursed. She had been so lost in her own emotional pain that she had not paid attention to how much he was hurting her with the knife. Now, even the simple act of lifting herself a few inches off the ground was almost too difficult to manage. _You can do this_, she told herself. _You've lost more blood just donating to the Red Cross. _The vertigo must have gotten to her, because she lost the contents of her stomach onto the floor.

Vomiting snatched away what little strength she had left. She collapsed.

The man laughed at her pathetic attempts to free herself. He grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to roll over so she was lying on her back. He stretched out on top of her and held the knife at her throat. His other hand, slick with her blood, slipped in between them.

* * *

><p>The man dragged Olivia back to her and Alex's cell sometime in the mid-afternoon. A trail of blood marked their path across the grimy floor. He pushed her through the gate, locked it behind her and walked away.<p>

Olivia groaned. It hurt to breathe. The effort required to lift herself up off the ground was enormous, but Olivia managed. The room swam in front of her and Olivia closed her eyes, willing the nausea away. Her whole body felt clammy and sore.

She felt someone approach and hunched her shoulders, crossing her arms over her chest. "No," she moaned softly. "Please, no."

"It's just me, Liv." Alex helped Olivia to her feet.

"I'm sorry, Alex. I'm so sorry." Olivia's feet dragged and Alex had to support most of her weight. "I didn't want to hurt you. I never wanted to do that to you." Her words sounded slurred, even to her own ears. Every step was painful and her movements felt sluggish and uncoordinated.

"I know." Alex opened the door to the shower.

Alex had spent the better part of the last day thinking about it and she still didn't know how she felt about the revelation of what Zapata had made Olivia do. She did know that anything Olivia had done to her had been done under duress, but that didn't change the fact that it was Olivia who did it. It was Olivia's hands that had caressed her skin. It was Olivia's lips that had kissed her, Olivia's tongue and fingers that had ignited a flame within her while Zapata stood by and watched. Alex remembered all too well the humiliation she had felt – humiliation that had only increased since she had learned that it was Olivia who had been between her legs. _Stop it, Cabot,_ Alex told herself. _This is not the time to figure all this out. There will be time for that later. Right now, Olivia needs help._

Most of the blood that covered Olivia was dry and, from what Alex could see, most of the cuts were superficial – designed to cause pain and lots of bleeding, but with minimum damage. Alex helped Olivia into the shower and turned the water on. The first gush of water was icy cold and Olivia fell to her knees and huddled up to stay warm. Alex crouched next to her, not caring that her clothes were quickly soaked through. The water that rain into the drain at their feet was stained pink as the blood sloughed off Olivia's skin. Now that the blood was gone, Alex got a good look at the extent of the damage. Dozens of small lines crisscrossed her shoulders, back and thighs. There was a long, thin gash that ran along the upper side of her left collarbone. Olivia's lower back, butt, and thighs were scraped and raw. Grit from the dirty floors was imbedded in the abrasions. Bruises covered her body, her lip was split in a few places and a trail of blood was dried under her nose.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Alex reached for the bar of soap.

"How can you stand to be near me?" Olivia whispered brokenly. "After what I did to you…"

Alex shifted around so that Olivia could lean against her for support. She passed Olivia the soap and the detective began to gingerly wash off the dirt and blood and clean the wounds. The cool water felt good as it rushed over her. It helped clear the fog in her head and it soothed the aching bruises that covered her form head to toe.

"I can't blame you for what he forced you to do," Alex said. "He's made me do things that I hated too."

Olivia winced at the painful reminder of the harsh words she had thrown at Alex. "'Lex, I'm sorry for what I said. I know that you don't, that you didn't…"

"It's alright." Alex knew that they had both been angry and said things that they shouldn't have. But that did nothing to take the sting out of the words. "I didn't just give in, you know." She felt like Olivia had been insinuating as much ever since they got here. "I held out for three days. He tortured me for _three days_ before I gave in. I didn't know where you were or if you were still alive. I knew the only way that I would see you again – the only way that the pain would stop – was if I did what he told me to. I didn't have a choice in it any more than you did when you decided to do what he told you."

Olivia finished bathing and tried to stand. Her legs were shaking. Alex got to her feet as well and supported Olivia as the detective reached for a towel and wrapped it around herself. Alex helped her over to the cabinet where they kept their medical supplies. "What can I do?" Alex asked.

"Is there any soda in the fridge?" Olivia asked. "The sugar helps."

Alex opened the small refrigerator and passed Olivia a can.

"Thanks." Olivia tilted her head back and sipped slowly. The cool liquid burned her down her throat and her stomach rolled, reminding her that she had not eaten since yesterday. Once she had drained the can, Olivia set to work applying antibiotics and bandages to the numerous cuts. Alex helped, her touch soft and gentle. Olivia could tell that Alex was worried about the amount of blood loss. "I'll be fine, Alex," she reassured. "This is barely what I'd lose giving blood." Olivia was used to donating blood, though, and this felt different. The clamminess, dizziness, nausea and just general mental fog were all usual. But Olivia had never felt quite this weak or thrown up after giving blood.

Still, the shower had helped and the soda was slowly giving her back some energy. It would take a few days for her body to replenish the blood she had lost, but with soda to give her sugar and water to keep her hydrated, she should be back on her feet in less than an hour.

It took a box and a half of band-aids in addition to a few larger bandages in order to cover all her open wounds. When they were done, Olivia leaned her head back against the wall. "I don't know how you can deal with it," she said softly. Alex didn't respond, so Olivia elucidated. "Being raped every day."

Alex stiffened. "I don't deal with it." Her whole body was tense and she barely moved her mouth when she spoke. She didn't look at Olivia. "I do what I have to do to survive and then I come back here and try not to think about it. I talk to you. I watch TV. I don't let myself think about what happens in that room."

"I can't stop thinking about it," Olivia confessed. "I can't sleep, I have nightmares, I just feel sick all the time. Sometimes I think that we are never going to get out of here and that it would be better just to die. And then other times I can't stop thinking about how, if we ever do get out of here, nothing is ever going to be the same."

"No, it won't," Alex agreed.

"I mean, I don't think that I could handle going back to SVU even if they let me – which they probably wouldn't. And we saw on the tv that one day that they've already got a new ADA for the squad."

"You know, I had always planned to use the ADA-ship to launch into politics. That plan is over now."

"Why?" Olivia asked. "Even if the SVU position is filled, there are other openings in the DA's office. You could still use it to get into politics."

"No." Alex shook her head. "It was a big news event when we disappeared so it will be a news event when we come back. If I try to go into politics, people will look at me and they won't think, "oh, that's Alexandra Cabot who had a 78% conviction rate," or "that's the first prosecutor to ever get spousal rape past the Grand Jury." They'll think "oh, that's the blonde lawyer who was that drug-lord's sex slave." Her shoulders slumped and for a moment Alex looked much older and more haggard than her years. "And with all the pictures he has taken of me, I would be surprised if some of them didn't make it onto the internet eventually." She sighed. "Even if we survive this long enough to get out, my hope for a political career is long gone."

"Of course, that is still assuming that we ever get out," Olivia remarked dejectedly.

"About that…" Alex hesitated and glanced toward the gate to make sure there was no one around. "The other day, Zapata left me alone in that room while he stepped outside."

Olivia looked sideways at her, her brow furrowed.

"His computer is in there," Alex whispered. "He's always on the internet, so I know it's connected."

Olivia could feel her heart starting to beat faster in excitement. "You think you could get a message out."

Alex nodded. "He thinks I won't fight him anymore, so some days he forgets to tie me down. I could do it. The problem is that I'd have to be sure that he would be gone long enough for me to send the message and get off the computer before he came back. If he caught me sending an email…" She didn't say it. They both knew that Zapata would kill them for such an attempt. "When he left me alone, that was the first time he brought you. If he does that again, do you think you could delay him long enough to give me time?"

Olivia nodded grimly, her face a mask of determination. "I can do that," she promised.

* * *

><p><strong>Please Review! <strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** I did a little bit of revision on Chapter 12, so if you have not read new version, go back and read that first!

* * *

><p>It was a quiet day at SVU, which was a rare occurrence. Fin and Munch were each partnered with one of the new detectives. They hadn't liked that, but Cragen was not about to let two SVU rookies – no matter how much experience they had in other departments – team up together.<p>

Cragen was in his office, just finishing up a stack of paperwork, when he found the transfer request buried underneath. He sighed. It was from one of the new detectives – Vincent Parker. Cragen gave the form a cursory read and signed it. It was hard to find good detectives for SVU. He wanted another female detective, to be honest, but all the ones he had interviewed either got too involved with the victims or had grown callused through their work with other precincts. Cragen needed someone who could care about the victims, but still maintain professional boundaries. He needed someone who was tough enough to get the job done, but still be compassionate with the victims and their families. If he were honest with himself, Cragen would say that he needed another Olivia. But he knew that there was no one who could replace her.

Cragen leaned back in his chair. He looked at the tri-fold frame on his desk, which held pictures of Elliot, Olivia, and Alex. Elliot's picture was one that Kathy had brought in – of Elliot holding the twins when they were a few months old. The detective seemed unaware of the camera; his gaze was focused on the small bundles in his arms. Alex's photo was professional and simple, set against a plain gray backdrop. Liz Donnelly had given it to him on the day of Elliot's funeral. The picture in the center was a snapshot of Olivia from a Christmas party a few years ago. It had captured one of those rare moments in which Olivia actually allowed herself to relax and be happy. She was talking with someone outside the frame and laughter lit up her face.

Cragen wanted a drink. He could feel the old, familiar desire burning inside him. He pushed it away, as he had for many years. Drinking would not help find Olivia. Drinking would not bring Zapata to justice so that Elliot could return.

They knew that Zapata had been behind the attack – they had no proof, but everyone knew it. Because they had no proof, there was nothing they could do. There had been no physical evidence at the scene to give them any leads and Zapata had gone underground. No judge could legally grant them a warrant to search Zapata's many properties based on conjecture. The NYPD had sent detectives to every single one of Zapata's properties but, in every case, they were refused entrance and told that Zapata was not there. They had no legal recourse to enter the buildings and search for themselves, so they had been turned away. All they could do now was wait until Zapata reappeared so that they could question him. Lionel Granger, Zapata's lawyer, had been stalling with one motion after another, but Cragen had gotten the news yesterday that a court date was set and the trial judge refused to push it back any farther.

The minute Zapata showed his face, he would be taken in for questioning and, even if they couldn't hold him, they would be able to put a tail on him that would hopefully lead to Olivia and Alex. It was a slim chance, but right now, that was the only chance they had.

Cragen really wanted that drink.

He heard a knock on the office door. "Come in," he called.

Munch opened the door partway and stuck his head in. "Somebody here to see you, Captain. He says it's about Olivia."

Cragen straightened in his chair, suddenly alert. "Send him in," he replied. The man who entered was tall and lean, with pale skin, a pinched nose, and small eyes sunken deep in their sockets. He had the look of a man who rarely saw daylight. Cragen stood. "I'm Captain Cragen," he said, offering his hand to the man.

The man glanced around the room, as if both surprised and uncomfortable to find himself in a police station. "Frank Zwinski," he introduced himself.

"My sergeant tells me that you are here regarding Detective Benson?" Cragen asked, gesturing for Frank to take a seat. Cragen settled down into his chair.

Frank nodded. "I'm her landlord, you see, and the rent is past due. None of my other tenants have seen her lately and when I called her emergency contact, I was told that the man died a few weeks ago. Her paperwork said she worked here, so I figured I'd come looking for her."

Cragen sighed. When Munch had said someone was here about Olivia, he had hoped it would be information of where to find her. "No, she's not here right now." He didn't feel like explaining any further to this man who seemed only to care about his tenants as far as rent was concerned. "How much does she owe?"

The man told him. Cragen pulled out his checkbook and cut a check. _There goes the rest of my month's pay_, he thought. He handed it over. Frank mumbled his thanks and left.

Instantly, Munch and Fin were in his office. "He have news about Liv, Cap'?" Fin asked.

"No," Cragen shook his head. "He was just her landlord hounding for rent." Cragen stood and walked around his desk toward Fin and Munch. "I want you two to go by her place and get it cleaned up. I should have thought of this sooner. Get rid of any food that might spoil in the fridge or anything that will attract bugs. I'll arrange for the power and water to be cut off and I'm going to go see some guys at the police union about keeping her rent paid until we get her back."

Munch looked at his watch. "You think they can hold down the fort here for the rest of the day?" he asked dubiously, gesturing out the window toward the two new detectives.

"No," Cragen replied tiredly. "You two go ahead, I'll babysit them." He picked up the transfer request that one of the new detectives had left on his desk. "Parker's going to be leaving us. Can't take dealing with the victims. Either of you know any other detectives that might be interested in transferring in?" There was no answer. Cragen sighed. "Didn't think so. You guys get going. When Olivia gets back, I don't want her coming home to a rank apartment."

* * *

><p>Frank opened the door to let Fin and Munch into Olivia's apartment. "Be sure to lock up when you leave," he said shortly.<p>

"We will," Fin nodded. The door swung closed. Fin looked around. He had never been in Olivia's apartment and it felt wrong to be here now, intruding in her space without her permission. He looked at Munch and knew that the other man felt the same.

Munch walked through the living room and into the kitchen. "Let's get started." He pulled open the refrigerator door and pulled away a bit from the smell. After three weeks, Olivia's fridge reeked. Fin found a large garbage bag under the sink. He held it open while Much quickly transferred the contents of the refrigerator into the bag: several boxes of Chinese take-out, a half-gallon of spoiled milk, a block of cheese that was just beginning to mold, a few bruised apples and a bag of wilted salad mix.

There were dishes stacked up in the sink. Fin filled one side of the sink with soapy water and started to scrub them, but the old food had crusted on and refused to give. Two bowls, a plate, and a few forks and spoons joined the food in the garbage bag.

In the shelves above the kitchen counter, Munch found a bag of stale bagels and a loaf of moldy bread. Most of the rest of the food was in sealed containers, boxes, or cans. Some would keep, but the rest had to go. As Munch started pulling things off the shelf, a small cockroach scurried away from his hand. He jerked his hand back and Fin laughed. Munch shrugged, a little embarrassed. "We'll have to get someone in here to spray too."

"Yeah." Fin finished at the sink and ran the water for a few seconds to make sure that everything was properly flushed down the drain. He looked in the cabinets for cleaning supplies, but didn't see any. He walked back out to the living room. The apartment had only one bathroom, which connected to both the living room and to Olivia's bedroom. He found a spray bottle of cleaner and a roll of paper towels under the sink. He carried those back to the kitchen and passed them to Munch, who set about spraying and wiping down the shelves in the refrigerator. "I still can't believe they're gone," he said. "Some days I get to work, you know, and I expect to see Liv there – and Stabler too. And then there's Parker and Greggs at their desks and those two don't do half the good on their best day that Liv and Stabler could do even when they were at each other's throats."

"I know what you mean," Munch replied. "We'll find Olivia. Zapata will have to turn up eventually and he'll lead us to Olivia and Cabot. "We'll get them back."

Fin was more skeptical. He had worked in Narcotics for nearly his entire career before transferring to SVU and he knew that drug cartels were fully capable of making people disappear. "We about done here?" he asked, changing the subject.

Munch braced his hand on his knee as he slowly got to his feet. "Good enough."

"I'll go put this back and grab the rest of the trash," Fin said as he picked up the cleaning supplies. Munch nodded and started tying up the back of spoiled food and the bag from Olivia's kitchen trash can.

There was a small trash can in the bathroom and, as Fin bent to empty out the bag, he spotted another bin inside Olivia's bedroom. He hesitated at the doorway. It already felt wrong for them to be inside Olivia's apartment, but going into her bedroom seemed worse.

The bed was rumpled and hastily made. A shirt hung over the edge of the dirty clothes basket and a few other pieces of clothes were simply thrown in a heap on the floor. A book was propped open on the bedside table next to a glass of water. The contents of a make-up kit were scattered across the top of the small dresser, just in front of the mirror.

It looked like Olivia had left just this morning instead of over three weeks ago.

Fin decided to not worry about the bedroom trashcan. He placed a clean liner in the can in the bathroom and went back out to meet Munch.

* * *

><p>That night, Olivia was headed toward her pallet on the floor when Alex stopped her.<p>

"It's ridiculous for you to sleep on the floor when it's cold and there's plenty of space in the bed," Alex said softly. She was already in bed, the thick covers pulled up over her shoulders.

"Are you sure?" Olivia asked. "I understand if you need your space."

Alex hesitated. "I do," she confessed, "but Zapata wanted me not to know that it was you. If you sleep on the floor, he will realize that I know and I don't know what he'll do."

Olivia crossed tentatively toward the bed and perched on the edge. She peeled back the top layer of blankets and crawled in, leaving a layer of sheets between herself and Alex. She curled on her side, facing the blonde. Dark eyes met blue in the near darkness and Olivia realized that they were both holding their breath, as if waiting for something.

Olivia stretched her hand out into the neutral territory between them. Alex pulled away, pressing back against the wall with a soft hiss.

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"Please don't be afraid of me, Alex," Olivia begged softly.

Alex shook her head. "It's not you I'm afraid of," she replied. "It's just… everything. It's…" she cast about, looking for the right word. "Confusing," she finally decided. She reached forward, ignoring Olivia's outstretched hand, and brushed her fingertips against Olivia's cheek. Olivia closed her eyes. "I know you," Alex said. "I know that you would never willingly hurt me. But Zapata can use you to hurt me, and that scares me. I know that it's not your fault, but it's still…" She pulled her hand away from Olivia's soft skin and gestured vaguely at her own head. "It's hard to separate. It's hard for me to compartmentalize what Zapata makes you do versus who I know you are. It's just going to take me some time to be able to sort it all out"

"If Zapata brings me in there again," Olivia asked, "what do you want… I mean, do you want me to…" She took a deep breath but couldn't find the words to continue.

Alex's eyes glistened in the dim light. "Liv," she said seriously, "I want you to do whatever you feel you have to. I know what it's like to be forced to do something against your will and I want you to know that I won't – at least, I'll _try _not to hold it against you." Alex's hand sought hers and the long, fine fingers were cold as they intertwined with Olivia's.

"I just can't let him hurt you."

Alex's grip tightened on her hand. "Liv, I'm fairly certain he is going to hurt me no matter what you do."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** It's a short chapter, but that seemed like as good a breaking point as any.

My Masters program starts today, so I fear this is the end of rapid updates. I'll keep going with them, just don't be surprised if I don't have a chapter up every few days.

In the meantime, make me happy and fill my inbox with **Review **notifications!


	14. Chapter 14

_It was mid-morning and Olivia sat at the kitchen table, swinging her feet happily as she diligently filled in the first page of her new coloring book. Tomorrow was her first day of second grade. For the past week, her mom had been busy driving her around to get school supplies and shop for new clothes. Olivia was already dressed in the neat white shirt and blue skirt that her mom had laid out for her to wear tomorrow. Her bright red shoes buckled around socks that had an inch of frilly lace around the ankles. _

_Her mom stumbled out from the bedroom and Olivia's smile faded. She might be only seven years old, but she knew well what a hangover looked like. "Hi, Mom," she said quietly. "Do you want to see my picture?" Her voice was soft; she knew better than to speak too loudly after her mom had had too much to drink. _

"_Not just now, doll." Serena was exhausted and her head was pounding. The light hurt her eyes and so she felt her way across the kitchen. Her hands sought out the upper cabinet – too high for Olivia to reach – where she kept her liquor. "Just a drop," she mumbled to herself, "just a drop to take the edge off." She unscrewed the cap without even looking to see which bottle she had pulled down, and took a single, long sip. When she lowered the bottle, she looked over at her dark-haired daughter. "What did you draw, sweetheart?" she asked. _

"_It's Dorothy," Olivia stated, holding up her coloring book proudly. "She has red shoes like me." Serena smiled. She knew that she shouldn't be drinking so early, but even just a sip in the mornings did wonders to ease a hangover. _

"_That's very nice," she complimented placidly, with only a half glance at the drawing. "Why don't you hang it up on the fridge?" _

"_No, Mommy," Olivia protested. "If I tear out the page, I can't color the picture on the back." She turned the page to show that the outline of another scene from "Wizard of Oz" that she had not yet colored in. _

_Serena stepped closer, moving to stand over her daughter's shoulder to look at the coloring book. A pink Barbie car was on the floor next to Olivia's chair and Serena tripped. She lurched forward, falling to her knees and barely managing to stretch out her arms in time to keep her head from slamming into the table. _

_Olivia froze, surprised by the sudden sound. _

"_Damn it, Olivia! How many times do I have to tell you not to leave your shit everywhere?" Serena snapped. _

"_Sorry, Mom," Olivia murmured, looking down at her paper. Her swinging feet stilled and she crossed her ankles and tucked her legs under the chair, scuffing the toes of her new shoes against the tile floor. _

_Serena groaned as she got back to her feet. "It's fine, Liv." She brushed her hands off. "Let me see that drawing." Her brain was still fuzzy from last night's drinking binge and she forgot the plastic toy on the floor as she stepped forward again. Her bare foot descended directly on top of the little car and the sharp plastic stabbed up into the soft flesh. "Fuck!" she yelped. _

_Olivia giggled. Then she saw her mom's expression and immediately clapped her hands over her mouth to stop her laughter. _

"_You think this is funny?" Serena yelled. "You think someone getting hurt is funny, you little bastard?" Olivia shook her head wordlessly. _

"_No, Mommy, I'm sorry!" Olivia apologized hastily. _

"_And what are you doing wearing those?" Serena snapped. "Those clothes are for school tomorrow. You'll get them all dirty if you wear them today and damned if I'm doing laundry tonight just for that." Her eye fell to where Olivia's feet were nervously kicking the ground as she faced her mother's anger. "And you're scuffing up your new shoes." _

_Olivia stilled the motion, pulling her feet up to rest on the edge of her seat and tucking her knees up to her chest. "I'm sorry, Mom," she repeated again. _

_Only later, after Serena had calmed down, did Olivia ask in her quiet, too-serious voice, "Mommy, what's a bastard?"_

Olivia woke up and opened her eyes to the dim light inside their prison. In the background, she could hear the endless, dull buzz of the TV. Alex was still fast asleep, curled on her side facing Olivia. Her lips were slightly parted and her brow was knotted with tension.

Olivia rolled over, laying flat on her back. Her hands rested on her ribcage, just underneath her breasts. She could feel her heartbeat. The lingering dreamed prodded at the edge of her thoughts. That day had been the first time that Olivia had ever heard the term "bastard." Her mom had told her that it meant someone who didn't have a dad. That definition had only sufficed for a short while. A week later, Olivia had come home from school with more questions.

"_Mommy, I told Alicia that I was a bastard because I don't have a dad and she said that everybody has to have a dad because a mommy has to have a daddy to kiss to make a baby," Olivia blurted as she climbed into the back of Serena's sedan and buckled herself in. _

_Serena cringed. She had been hoping to avoid this conversation for another few years, but Olivia was nothing if not inquisitive. _

"_Alicia said that everybody has to look like their mom or dad and that's why she has red hair – because her dad has red hair." Olivia twirled her hand in her own short hair as she spoke. Serena's eyes looked back at her in the rearview mirror. "But you have blonde hair and I have dark hair," Olivia commented. "Do I have a daddy? Does my dad have dark hair like me?"_

_Serena took a deep breath. This was not a conversation she could have while driving. She pulled over onto the shoulder and threw the car into park. She did not unbuckle or turn around. It was easier to speak with her eyes on the steering wheel as she struggled to find words that could explain in a way that was appropriate for a seven-year-old to understand. "You know that moms and dads have to kiss to make kids." Serena figured that "kiss" would suffice for now. "Well, sometimes boys want to kiss girls and girls don't want to be kissed."_

_Olivia nodded sagely. "Michael and Thomas always chase Rosie around at recess. She says that she won't kiss them because they have cooties."_

"_Yes, well…" Serena was fumbling for words now. "A man kissed me when I didn't want him to. And that made you."_

_Olivia fixated on the one aspect of the conversation she was most interested in. "So I do have a dad. Can I meet him? Some of my friends live with just their moms, but they still have dads and can visit them sometimes. Can I visit my dad?"_

"_No." Serena's fingers wrapped around the steering wheel until her knuckles grew white. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears. Her chest was tight and it was suddenly difficult to breath. The memory of that night – the night she had tried so hard to drink away and forget – was hovering on the edge of her consciousness, creeping closer, threatening to pull her back into the nightmare. _

"_Why not?" Her daughter's whine pierced through and pulled her away from the brink of the darkness. "All the other kids know their dads. It's not fair."_

"_Life isn't fair." It was an adage often repeated in their house, but for some reason that Serena could never puzzle out, all children somehow expected that everything would follow their ideas of fairness and right. _

"_But why can't I meet him? Why can't I meet my dad?"_

"_Because he's a monster."_

A whimpering sound from beside her tore Olivia away from her memories. She looked over at Alex. The blonde's face was drawn and tense and her lower lip trembled. In the dim light, Olivia could see the glimmering sheen that coated the skin under her eyes.

"Alex," she whispered. "Alex, wake up."

Alex moaned and her fingers clenched, twisting in the sheets. Tears leaked down her cheeks to wet the pillow beneath her. "No," she groaned. "No, please."

"Alex," Olivia repeated, louder this time. "Alex, come on, honey. Wake up." She rolled over to face Alex and her hand hovered over the blonde's shoulder. She hesitated, afraid to touch Alex. "Wake up. It's just a dream."

Alex twitched, her muscles contracting sharply, and the movement snapped her awake and sent her scurrying upright. When she opened her eyes, she was crouched at the foot of the bed, her hands held up in loose fists, and her breath coming in short, ragged pants. Her eyes darted around the room before finally settling on Olivia's shadowed face.

She sucked in a deep breath, relaxed her fists and leaned back against the wall. "Damn," she said shakily.

"You want to talk about it?" Olivia asked.

"No," Alex replied too quickly. Olivia raised her eyebrow and Alex looked away. "It was just a nightmare is all."

"You haven't been having bad nightmares like that lately." The first week they had been here, Alex had woken frequently from violent nightmares. As time passed and they both became conditioned to accept their present circumstances, Alex's nightmares had slowed.

"It was nothing. I'm sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep." Alex lay back down.

"You didn't. I was already awake."

"Oh." Alex allowed a moment to lapse in silence. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

Something in her tone must have alerted Alex because the blonde propped herself up on one elbow to look at Olivia. "Really?" she inquired.

Olivia said nothing, but turned over, facing out into the room with her back to Alex. "It was nothing," she whispered. She felt Alex's hand come to rest on her shoulder and closed her eyes, leaning slightly into the touch.

Alex said nothing, but she squeezed Olivia's shoulder slightly and Olivia brought her own hand up to rest atop Alex's. She squeezed back briefly but then pushed Alex's hand away. "Please don't touch me," she said.

Alex withdrew her hand with a puzzled look on her face. "Why?"

Olivia said nothing.

"Olivia, talk to me," Alex said as she sat up. For a moment she sounded like her old, commanding self. "Tell me why you don't want me to touch you."

The brunette rolled over, looking up at Alex's concerned expression. "Do you know what it is to fear what's inside of you?" she asked. "All my life I have had to live with the knowledge of what happened to my mother – and that I carried the genes of someone who was capable of that kind of violence. I have lived with the fact that my father was a rapist and now…" Olivia pushed herself upright, sitting opposite Alex. "Alex, I _raped_ you. And even if you can forgive me, I don't know that I can. "

"Oh, Liv…" Alex reached out and took Olivia's hand in hers, ignoring Olivia's attempt to pull away. "You didn't rape me – not really. _He_ raped me. He just used you to do it."

Olivia shook her head and shifted uncomfortably. She tried to pull her hand back, but Alex wrapped it in both of hers. "Don't," Olivia whispered. She felt wrong in her own skin, as though Alex would be contaminated just from touching her.

"No." Alex's voice was firm and much steadier than she actually felt. Even though she was still unnerved by what Zapata had forced Olivia to do to her, she was determined to be strong for Olivia – as Olivia had been strong for her so many times. "Olivia, listen to me: _You did not rape me_. It was not your fault. You are not like the man who raped your mother. You're not."

Olivia managed to wriggle her hand free. "Let's just go back to bed," she said.

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><p>Alex woke up in the morning to the sound of Olivia throwing up. She rolled out of bed and got to her feet. Before she made it halfway across the room, she noticed Zapata approaching and froze. He looked even angrier than usual as he unlocked the gate. "Alexandra, get over here," he snarled. His voice cracked over her like a whip and Alex turned and walked toward the gate. She glanced at Olivia, but the detective was still curled over the toilet, retching miserably.<p>

As she walked closer to the violent drug-lord, Alex felt herself grow cold and numb. It was better not to think about it, better not to feel anything. In the past three weeks, Alex had learned that it was easier just to withdraw completely. It was better to close herself off and pretend that he couldn't touch her. By the time she reached the gate, Alex's expression was calm and placid, her back straight and her jaw set firmly. Fighting was useless; experience had taught her that much. Her only choice was to endure until they could find a way to escape – to endure with as much dignity as she could hold onto.

Zapata grabbed her by the arm, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. As usual, he was pissed. His status in the cartel was becoming increasingly tenuous. With every passing day, he felt more and more marginalized from the activity of the thriving organization he had once directed. The only things he had control over were his Alexandra and her cop. He locked the gate and pushed Alexandra forward. When they reached his room, he shoved her forward, bending her over the bed.

He wrenched her arms back behind her and cuffed them together. Alex pressed her forehead down into the bed. He reached around her hips, fumbling for the button and zipper on her jeans. He pushed her pants midway down her thighs and leaned over her. Alex could feel him pressed against her. His chest crushed against her cuffed hands and the pressure made the cuffs click tighter, pinching her wrists and applying harsh pressure to her still-healing fingers. His breath was hot against her neck. "Say that I own you," he growled in a thick voice.

"You own me," Alex recited dully. It would do no good to fight. _They are only words_, she told herself. _It doesn't matter._

"Tell me that you're my bitch – that I can do whatever I want with you." Zapata found a sadistic pleasure in hearing her admit her own helplessness.

"I'm your bitch, to do with as you will." No matter how much she told herself that it didn't matter, it still hurt. Alex wished there were a way to close her ears so that she wouldn't have to hear how weak she sounded. Zapata growled in approval and slipped one hand down between her legs. She could feel him rubbing against her. He was limp. Alex grimaced. Erectile dysfunction only meant that he would be more frustrated, and therefore more violent.

Her prediction was right. Zapata's hand left his penis and instead fisted in Alex's long hair, jerking her up off the bed and pulling her against him. "Damn right," he hissed. "You're mine." He threw her to the ground. With her hands cuffed behind her, Alex had no way to protect herself from the fall. She managed to catch most her weight on her shoulder, but was unable to prevent her head from hitting the floor. Alex yelped in pain and tried to squirm away. Her pants were still caught around her knees, hampering her movement.

Zapata kicked her in the stomach. Alex gasped and doubled over. "You're mine!" he said again, punctuating his words with another kick. "I own you." Alex twisted, trying to find some position that would protect her head and the softer parts of her abdomen. It didn't help. His blows continued to fall.

Finally, only once Alex had completely stopped trying to move, Zapata lifted her up and threw her against the bed. He wrapped his left hand around the back of her neck, pushing her face into the comforter. Alex struggled to breathe. She heard the sound of his belt snap as he jerked it free of his pants. For a brief instant, there was silence as he wrapped his hand around the end of his belt and drew his arm back.

The leather connected with Alex's bare skin in a loud _crack. _Alex jerked, but his meaty hand forced her down, preventing her from moving. He snapped the belt against her again and again. Alex bit the blanket underneath her to silence her cries. It felt like her skin was on fire. Her hands pulled helplessly against the tight metal bracelets and her chest heaved as she gasped for air. The welts sprang up behind the lash, crisscrossing in layer after layer of red, painful marks.

Zapata pulled her off the bed and pushed her down to her knees. He held himself in one hand while the other pulled her head toward him. He pushed past her lips. Alex wished, not for the first time, that she could just die of shame. He was still flaccid, but hardened quickly in her mouth. He thrust against her and Alex gagged as his tip hit the back of her throat. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. Alex was tempted to bite him and wondered if it would be worth taking the repercussions. But, as if he knew what she was thinking, Zapata grabbed her jaw. His fingers tightened as he pushed his hips forward.

And then, suddenly, he had released her. He moved around behind her and shoved her forward, until her cheek and shoulder pressed against the rough concrete floor. He positioned himself behind her and grabbed her hips as he shoved himself into her dry opening, penetrating her before his erection had a chance to fail again. Alex bit her lower lip and her tongue ran over the rough, torn skin where she had bitten her lip many times before to keep quiet. As much as possible, she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt.

After only a few minutes, Zapata stopped and pulled out of her. "The fuck is this shit?"

Alex didn't know what he was talking about until she caught the scent of blood. Her period had started.

Zapata wrapped his hand around Alex's throat and yanked her to her feet, slamming her against a wall. "You disgust me," he snarled. "Stupid fucking bitch."

Alex's heart was pounding in her chest. Zapata dragged her along the wall to the door and flung it open. One of his men was waiting on guard outside. Zapata shoved her through the doorway and Alex fell hard onto her knees. "Take her back," Zapata ordered. "I don't want to see the bitch until she's done." He slammed the door, leaving Alex alone with the guard.

The other man pulled her upright, his expression dispassionate. He spun her around and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. He removed the handcuffs and allowed Alex a moment to pull up and refasten her pants.

As they walked back toward her and Olivia's cell, Alex felt a wave of relief wash over her. _Five days of relative freedom_. Alex didn't think she had ever been so relieved to have her period.

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><p><strong>AN: Please Review!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N** - a couple quick notes... I added a date to this chapter so that it's easier to keep track of time passing. If you all want, I can go back and add in dates to the earlier chapters too.

Also, I mention FARC here. This is a real group IRL - if you don't know about them, google it. I like to incorporate real life things when possible in my stories. 

As far as Alex and Olivia are doing... this is a rough time. They both have been through a lot and they have only each other to turn to for help. So on the one hand, there is all that stuff between them from their fight and from what Zapata has made them do, but on the other hand, they are each other's only support system. I hope that I am writing the dynamic realistically, but let me know what you think. **  
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><p><strong>November 10, 2003<strong>

Zapata sat down in front of his computer, a scowl on his face. His court date was barely two and a half weeks away now and he knew that, if he made an appearance in court, his life was over. His usefulness to Velez was effectively over and Velez would kill him before risking that he might betray information to the Americans. If he went home to Columbia, Velez might kill him there just for having caused all this trouble. It was time to cultivate other options. Zapata logged into his instant messaging service and waited. His contact from FARC should be coming online soon.

It had only been a few days before that Zapata had thought of turning to FARC as a way out of his situation. The Columbian guerrillas always needed experienced smugglers and there was nobody more experienced at getting things into the United States than Zapata. Plus, he had something to trade to smooth his way into their ranks.

_ElChedeColumbia_: Amigo, I hear you have a business proposal.

Zapata smiled when he heard the beep that indicated a new message. His contact was certainly wasting no time jumping right into the conversation.

_ZapUSA31:_ Indeed. Do you have a job opening for an experienced import/exporter?

_ElChedeColumbia:_ I think we could find something. Although I hear you are in some trouble with a mutual friend of ours?

_Damn_, Zapata thought. _Velez must be more upset with the current situation than I thought.  
><em>

_ZapUSA31_: It is nothing too serious. Nothing that couldn't be overlooked for the right offer, I'm sure.

_ElChedeColumbia_: And you have the right offer?

Zapata smiled. FARC was notorious for their wheeling and dealing with hostages and prisoner exchanges. They always liked to have a few people tucked away in the jungle in case they ever needed to pry leniency from a foreign government. A certain attractive lawyer would make an excellent hostage. Her political position guaranteed that FARC would be able to use her whenever they needed to negotiate with Americans. Her long blond hair, perfect figure, and the fact that she had already been broken into a malleable asset by Zapata meant that FARC could also trade her to any of the arms dealers or other black-market organizations they dealt with.

_ZapUSA31_: I have a the right offer. Go look up news stories from NYC – October 14th of this year. There was an unfortunate tragedy.

There was a long pause and, for a moment, Zapata wondered if his contact had decided against the deal. Then, finally, ElChe responded.

_ElChedeColumbia_: You have both?

_ZapUSA31_: I do. One is better trained than the other, but both are available. The one that's already broken is a pure-bred with good papers. The other is a little more difficult to manage.

They were playing a dangerous game – even with encrypted instant messaging, there was always a risk in electronic communication. They did not dare be any more open than this. Zapata hoped that his contact understood what he was offering.

Another long pause. Zapata was sweating. If FARC rejected him, he didn't know where else he could turn.

_ElChedeColumbia_: I have always heard that golden retrievers are very good dogs – easily trained too. I'm glad to hear the bitch is already housebroken. And you are right that pure breeds are a good asset – if I ever want to sell the dog, that one will fetch a good price. As far as the other one… I don't have the time or energy to train a mutt right now. And given its background, it would probably bite more than bark.

Zapata sighed in relief. He had accepted the offer - to take Alexandra, at least, but not Benson.

_ZapUSA31_: I'm glad that you have a home ready for her – I would not want to give her to just anyone. I can bring the one to you by the 19th – would that work for you? Don't worry about the other one. I will find a good home for her too.

_ElChedeColumbia_: It sounds good to us. We welcome you and all your experience in the trade. Do not worry about our mutual friend – once you start working with us, you belong only to us. And we protect our own.

Zapata laughed aloud in relief. Not only was FARC going to give him a new job, but they would hide him from Velez's wrath – all for the measly price of one attractive, high-profile lawyer.

_ZapUSA31_: Excellent. I will get ready for the trip then. I will be in contact to work out the details in another week.

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><p>Alex lay stretched out on the bed on her stomach, her arms crossed under her head. She was wearing only a pair of underwear and a t-shirt that was currently bunched up under her shoulders. Behind her, she could hear Olivia rummaging in the medical cabinet. "I don't think he broke the skin at all," Alex said, her voice slightly muffled. "Just some of the lotion is all I really need." Her lower back, butt, and thighs were burning from where Zapata had beaten her.<p>

"Are you sure?" Olivia asked, concerned. "There're some spots that look a little raw. It can't hurt to have some antibiotic cream too. And you're showing some pretty bad bruises already forming."

Alex sighed with a soft smile. "Sure. You can see it better than I can anyway. Whatever you think."

Olivia crossed the room with her arms full. She dumped the items on the bed and climbed up to sit next to Alex. Ever perceptive, Olivia saw the way Alex's shoulders tensed. No matter what the other woman said, Olivia knew that it couldn't be easy for Alex to compartmentalize what had happened and that it was perfectly reasonable for her to still be afraid of Olivia. If Olivia felt like a rapist, why shouldn't Alex still feel like Olivia had raped her? "Are you sure this is okay?" Olivia asked quietly.

Alex bit her lip. She had tried to keep her body relaxed so that Olivia would not feel uncomfortable, but the urge to retreat from any physical contact was instinctual at this point. "I'm sure."

Olivia still hesitated.

Alex turned her head to look up at the detective. "Liv, my back hurts and I can't reach it," she stated plainly. "I'm…. I'm just a little nervous of anyone touching me. It's not you. But I need this. Please."

The "please" did it. Olivia knew that she was completely unable to resist anything Alex asked of her. She squeezed some of the cooling salve onto her hands and began to gently massage Alex's abused back. The blonde sighed luxuriantly as her stiff muscles relaxed under Olivia's hands.

"Thank you," Alex whispered after a few minutes.

Olivia's hands stilled and Alex was a little surprised to find that she squirmed, unconsciously pushing her skin up to meet Olivia's hesitant fingers. She laughed nervously at herself. "You have a good touch," she said, by way of excuse.

Olivia did not reply. It took Alex a moment to realize that her words had reminded Olivia of other, less willing, touches. Alex felt the heat rise in her face as she remembered where else Olivia had touched with the same strong, confident hands that were currently rubbing steady circles on her back. She remembered the warmth of Olivia's hands on her thighs and how terrified she had been to be touched by someone she could not know or see. "I am glad that it was you and not anybody else." Her words were met by nothing but silence. "It would have been worse if it had been one of his men."

"It still never should have happened. I never should have done that to you," Olivia replied. She lifted her hands from Alex's back just long enough to apply more lotion and then set about working it into the soft white skin.

"You didn't have a choice. I know that."

"But still you flinch when I come near you." It didn't matter what Alex said. Olivia had eyes and could see for herself the effect her presence had on Alex. The blonde tensed every time they got close. She always relaxed soon after, but it took a conscious effort.

"Yes." There was no point in trying to hide what Olivia could plainly see. "But that's not because of what happened – well, not completely." Olivia waited for her to continue. "I'm afraid of anyone near me," Alex confessed. "We've been here… what, three weeks now? More? We've both seen women who emerged from captivity completely unable to sustain normal relationships afterward or to tolerate any physical contact. I'm afraid that I'm getting to that point. I'm scared whenever anyone comes near me. I jump at shadows and…" Her voice was so soft that Olivia could barely hear, and it was further muffled by the fact that she still had her head resting on her arms, facing down toward the thick comforter on the bed. "I am just tired," she stated, "So very tired of dealing with all of this."

"We will get out of here," Olivia reassured her.

"But when? And how much more is going to happen before then?" Alex asked dejectedly.

"Soon, I hope. You said that he doesn't tie you up as much and he's left you alone in the room before," Olivia reminded her. "As soon as that happens again, you can get an email out for help."

"I know," Alex replied. That scenario relied on so many unpredictable variables, though, that she was afraid they would never be able to pull it off.

"Is your back feeling better now?" Olivia asked. Her hands were starting to get tired and she still had this terrible feeling that there was something horribly wrong with her for touching Alex after what Zapata had made her do.

"Much," Alex shifted on the bed, pulling her shirt back down into place. "Thank you." She made no effort to move from her spot on the bed. Olivia got up and picked up the TV remote off the floor. She handed it to Alex and went to sit on the floor with her back propped up against the bed. Alex flipped through the channels several times before finally settling on a Lifetime movie.

They watched the entire plot-less, overly-romantic movie and, when it was over, switched to the sci-fi channel to catch another made-for-TV movie.

"Liv?" Alex said quietly, when they were halfway through their second movie.

"Yeah?" Olivia responded without moving from her position on the floor.

"I said I was afraid of anyone touching me."

"Mm-hmm," Olivia acknowledged.

"I don't want to be that way." The vulnerability in Alex's voice was heart-breaking. Olivia sat up and turned around, peering at Alex over the edge of the bed. "I don't want to get to the point that I can't let anyone near me. I don't want to be afraid of everyone I see – especially you."

"Alright…" Olivia said slowly.

"You are all I have here." Alex whispered. "I don't want to let him take that away from us."

"What do you want to do?" Olivia asked. Fear was gathering in the pit of her stomach.

"Will you…" Alex hesitated. "Will you come sit with me? I think it might help."

Olivia was not sure about this, but she obligingly got to her feet and slid into bed next to Alex. She stretched out on her side about a foot away from the blonde. Alex was still lying on her stomach, but she scooted closer to Olivia until she could feel the heat emanating from the brunette's body.

Olivia's stomach was in knots. She wanted to do whatever she could to help Alex, but she still felt so guilty that it felt wrong just to be near the blonde. She looked carefully, examining Alex's face and body language. Alex's eyes were closed and her expression gave the appearance of being relaxed, but her breathing was shallow and slow. "Why are you doing this, Alex?" Olivia asked. "If you are not comfortable near me, you shouldn't push it. I understand if you don't want to be near me."

Alex opened her eyes and her blue gaze met Olivia's. "I don't want to let him make me fear the only friend I have here. I won't let him make me afraid of you. I just… I can't let him get between us like that."

Olivia nodded solemnly. Alex's word's made sense. Tentatively, Olivia moved one hand to rest on Alex's back, between her shoulder blades and above the sensitive areas where Zapata had beaten her. Alex sighed and leaned into the contact. "No matter how scared I am, you make me feel a little bit safer," she murmured.

"We're not safe," Olivia reminded her. "Not here."

"I know. Believe me, I know." Alex shifted onto her side so that she was facing Olivia.

"He can still make me hurt you," Olivia said.

"You didn't really _hurt_ me," Alex said carefully. "I was terrified because I didn't know who it was, but nothing that you did actually _hurt_ me. And…"

"Whether I hurt you or not, I raped you."

"He made you. It wasn't your fault," Alex said. She felt Olivia start to pull her hand away and reached up, catching her hand and entwining their fingers together. "I don't blame you for what he forced you to do."

"I blame myself."

Alex sighed. "I know you do." She ran her thumb across the back of Olivia's hand. "If he… if you end up in that position again… I give you my consent." She wasn't looking at Olivia's face, but she felt the detective's surprise. "It won't be rape, because I give you permission, alright?" She lifted her eyes to meet Olivia's. Tears pooled in Olivia's eyes and slid slowly down her cheeks. "Liv?"

Olivia turned away, burying her face in the bed as she cried. Alex wrapped her arms around her. Olivia's whole body shook. Alex hugged her close, surprised at how thin she was.

"I'm sorry," Olivia whispered, wiping her face as her trembling eased.

"It's alright," Alex reassured her. She smoothed Olivia's hair back from her forehead. Olivia's brow was hot and clammy. "It's alright, Liv. We'll get through this."

* * *

><p>The sci-fi movie was practically over before either of them moved again. Olivia stirred slowly, unsure of where the time had gone. Her face was caked with dried tears and her body was stiff. Alex felt her moving and sat up. Olivia looked away; neither of them was quite sure what to say.<p>

"I'm going to get something to eat. Do you want anything?"

Olivia shrugged noncommittally. "Sure."

Alex went over to the small fridge and pulled out two microwave meals. Once they were in the microwave, she went back to the bed to sit next to Olivia. Without saying anything, Alex took Olivia's hand in her own.

Within a few minutes, the room was filled with the smell of the lasagna heating up in the microwave. Alex breathed deeply. Neither of them had been eating well lately; the stress and the constant fear had been getting to them. She looked over at Olivia. The detective's face was pale and drawn and she seemed barely to be breathing. "Are you feeling okay?" Alex asked.

"Just a little nauseous," Olivia replied.

Alex eyed her warily. She looked more than just a bit nauseous. "You've been sick a lot lately," Alex stated.

Olivia nodded. "I haven't been feeling well."

The microwave dinged and Alex got up to get the food. A moment later, she passed Olivia a plate of lasagna and sat down next to her with her own plate. Olivia picked up her fork and pushed her food around, but didn't eat. "Do you want this?" she asked after a few minutes. "I'm not that hungry." Alex shook her head and then watched as Olivia walked over to the kitchen area and wrapped up her food to put in the fridge.

"Besides throwing up, what else is going on?" Alex asked.

Olivia shrugged as she climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her ears. "I'm tired," she said, "but with the nightmares and all, that's not surprising. I'm hungry a lot, but then when I try to eat, just the thought of food turns my stomach. I'm sure it's just a bug or something. It will pass in no time."

Alex washed her dishes in the small sink and then got into bed next to Olivia. She picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels, looking for another movie to fill the empty, quiet hours. It was barely 5pm and there was nothing interesting on. Olivia curled up on her side and pulled her pillow on top of her head to block out the light. "Are you tired already?" Alex asked.

"A little. I'll just listen to the TV until I fall asleep."

Alex finally settled on a news station. They didn't watch the news very often because it was just too depressing to be reminded that the rest of the world was moving on without them. It was not long before Olivia's breath evened out into slow, deep breaths. Alex looked over at her sleeping companion. Even though Olivia did not seem too concerned about getting sick, Alex was worried about her.

Now, in sleep and for the first time in months, Olivia looked almost peaceful. Alex watched her, momentarily distracted from the news. She reached over and ran the back of her fingers down Olivia's cheek. Olivia turned into the touch without waking. "Alex…" the sleeping detective whispered.

"It's alright, Liv." Alex brushed Olivia's hair back out of her face. "We'll get through this. I don't know how, but we will."

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><p><strong>REVIEW!<strong>


	16. Chapter 16

Sometime in the middle of the night, Alex woke up, unable to breathe. Olivia had rolled over and her arm was thrown across Alex's back. Alex felt as if she were frozen, completely unable to move. She felt panic rising up within her and her skin was crawling. _Stop this,_ she rebuked herself. _It's just Olivia. Calm down._ She felt like she was at war with herself; she knew that she could trust Olivia, but her reaction to any physical contact lately was blind panic. _Breathe. Just breathe._ Alex inhaled, paused, exhaled, and paused again. Her heart was still beating rapidly. She told herself to move, but her limbs were locked in place.

Inhale, pause. Exhale, pause. Again. Repeat. Alex slowly felt her wild pulse slow and she curled and uncurled her fingers. "Liv," she said, once she had calmed down enough to speak steadily. The detective stirred but did not wake. "Olivia," Alex repeated, louder this time.

Olivia peaked out at her through bleary, blood-shot eyes. "What is it?" she mumbled. Her eyes closed again.

"Liv, please. You need to move."

That woke Olivia up. Her eyes snapped open and she jerked her arm away as if she had been burned.

Alex frowned. Her initial panic had faded and, now that Olivia's arm was removed from her, she felt cold and terribly alone. She rolled to face the wall and curled up on her side, bringing her knees almost up to her chest. The tears bubbled up in her slowly, and she was helpless to dam their flow as they rose up within her and spilled down her cheeks. She bit her lip. Behind her, she felt Olivia sit up.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Olivia asked quietly.

Alex couldn't speak, afraid that even an attempt to voice her feelings would unleash a greater torrent. She shook her head. Olivia must have seen, because she didn't say anything else. After a moment, Olivia lay back down, settling stiffly on the edge of the bed as far from Alex as possible.

"I'm sorry, Alex," Olivia whispered hoarsely. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Her quiet words only served to make Alex cry harder. How could she explain to Olivia the complete jumble of everything she was feeling? How could she explain the instinctual terror at being touched by anyone? What could she say? – "_I'm sorry, Olivia. I'm afraid of Zapata, afraid of his guards, afraid of everyone and every shadow that I think could be someone coming to hurt me. I am terrified by the power Zapata has over both of us and I am very, very confused about how I should feel about what you and what has happened between us. I feel very scared and very alone and I don't know how to deal with any of this._" The pillow beneath her face was wet with her tears and the feel of the wet fabric under her skin made her remember the few times that she had lost her composure and cried while Zapata raped her. _I don't want to be afraid_, she thought, as her shoulders shook and trembled. She wrapped her arms across her chest, hugging herself tightly. _This is not me._ She sniffed back her tears, trying to halt the flow. _I am stronger than this. I can get through this. I will not let him win. I will not let him make me afraid like this._ The tears continued to fall. Alex could practically feel Olivia's tension; the brunette was concerned for her, but would not move or speak until Alex gave permission.

"Liv…"

The broken whimper was so quiet that Olivia barely managed to hear. She turned toward Alex and propped herself up on one elbow.

"…hold me."

The request took Olivia by surprise and she froze. Another round of sobs overtook Alex and something in Olivia's heart broke. She slid forward and wrapped her arm around Alex, pulling the blond back against her. She could feel Alex's every shake and tremor vibrating against her chest. Her arm, curled loosely around Alex's ribcage, felt every gasping breath.

Olivia allowed her head to drop back down onto the pillow, just behind Alex's mop of blond hair. Alex's skin was wet with cold sweat and her hair was matted and tangled under her head. Olivia was so close to her that she could smell the fear still rolling off of Alex in waves. "Talk to me, Alex?" Olivia whispered.

Alex shivered at the feel of Olivia's warm breath against her neck. She hiccupped softly, finally managing to get her tears under control. "I hate this," Alex breathed. "I hate being like this. I hate feeling so completely, uncontrollably terrified all the time, and so alone."

Olivia reflexively tightened her arm, drawing Alex even closer to her. She immediately bit her lip, wondering if that was the wrong thing to do – if that would scare Alex even more. Olivia was afraid to move. "You're not alone," Olivia said. "For what it's worth, you've got me."

"I know," Alex replied. She reached up and ran one hand down the length of Olivia's arm that was still draped over her. They were both silent for so long that Olivia started to think that Alex had fallen asleep. "I need you, Liv," Alex said finally. "I don't think I could survive here without you. And I don't know what I'd do if…" She stopped. There were so many things that she could say, but she was afraid to give voice to any of them: _If anything happened to you. If he separated us again. If…._ There were too many "ifs" – too many terrifying possibilities. "I can't lose you." Alex turned over, rolling inside the circle of Olivia's arm so that they were facing each other, their bodies pressed close together under the blankets. "I _can't_ lose you," she repeated fiercely. Her eyes sought Olivia's, filled with desperate need. "So no matter what happens – no matter what he does – I need to know that it's not going to come between us."

Olivia wanted to promise Alex that wouldn't happen, but she didn't know if it was a promise she could keep – Zapata had already proved himself capable of manipulating both of them into doing things they didn't want to do. There was no telling what he might do in the future. Alex's arm slipped over her and trailed down her spine. Olivia didn't know how to feel about this situation. "Alex..."

"What?"

"I don't know what you want me to do. I don't know what I can do to help you. One minute you're afraid to be near me and the next..." Olivia gestured helplessly, "_this_. I want to help you. You know I'll do anything I can to help you – God knows I owe you that much and more for what I've done. But I just don't know what I can do. I don't know what you _want_."

Alex stared at her for a moment. She disentangled her arms from around Olivia and rolled over onto her back. "I don't know what I want either," she admitted. "I feel like I'm at war with myself all the time. I want to be alone; I want to talk to you. I want to be able to be strong and get through this and I want comfort. I know that I can trust you, but there is just..." She closed her eyes against a brief flash of anxiety. "I... He makes..." Alex paused and drew in several deep breaths. When she spoke again, her voice was steadier, though she still didn't open her eyes. "I am not in control of my body. He has shown from the first day that he can force me to do whatever he wants. And now... I panic, I have these automatic reactions that I can't stop... If I cannot control my body, and I cannot control my mind, than what do I have left?"

"Oh, Alex..." Olivia was at a loss. Up until recently, Alex had managed to maintain her usual veneer of calm. Olivia felt like kicking herself for having missed how deeply Alex was affected by their situation. "You are alive. I am alive. In this situation... that means we're doing okay." Olivia knew all the right things to say to rape victims, but this was so much worse than any interview in a hospital or at the precinct. Not only was this more personal, but Olivia was painfully aware that nothing she could say would change the reality of the situation: she could try to comfort and reassure Alex, but the fact was that afterward they would still both be trapped and the abuse was still going to continue.

Alex shook her head. "Just staying alive is not good enough. I mean, what good is that if... what if I lose my 'me,' my sense of self? What good is it just to stay alive then?"

"You won't," Olivia said. "We are going to survive this and we are going to get out of here and we are both going to be able to move on – I promise."

* * *

><p>The time passed entirely too quickly. Alex and Olivia spent the next several days curled up in front of the television. New York was blanketed in snow. Every advertisement that was not about Thanksgiving was already gearing up for the Christmas season. Both of them felt the pain of isolation. It was hard to believe that so much time had passed – that outside the cement walls and metal gate, life went on for the rest of the world.<p>

"What do you think your family is doing right now?" Olivia asked. They were halfway through a documentary about the Mayans that was playing on the History Channel. It was not terribly cold, but still they were tucked into the bed, embraced by the weight of the blankets. Zapata's men kept the heat in the warehouse turned up high enough that they never would have known it was snowing if it weren't for the weather channel. Nevertheless, it felt good to curl up under the thick comforter and pretend that they could feel the chill of the snow they knew was outside.

"Mother is most likely busy getting ready for Thanksgiving." Alex was curled on her side, facing Olivia, and her fingers danced over Olivia's hand, resting on the bed between them. Alex was nothing if not determined and she had decided that she would not allow herself to become consumed by her fear. Over the past few days, they'd had several long conversations on the subject and Alex had come up with the idea for their current arrangement. Whenever she felt the waves of panic rising within her, she had only to say something and Olivia would immediately back away and give her space. When Alex was ready, she would initiate contact – whether physical touch or conversation. No matter how small the gesture, it gave Alex a way to regain some small amount of control. It meant that when she was scared – here, at least, even if not outside this room – she was in charge of when and how to handle that fear.

"Already? There's still another week or two, I thought." Olivia felt goosebumps rise on her skin as Alex's light touch trailed up her arm. Alex had woken up from a nightmare early this morning and was still calming down from the resulting panic attack.

"Mmhmmm." Alex opened her eyes and Olivia was glad to see that the fear that had been present earlier in the morning was gone now. Her crystalline eyes were clear and steady as she met Olivia's gaze. "My family is not very close. But we all get together every year at Thanksgiving, which means my mother stresses about it for weeks in advance. When I was younger, she would always have the menu arranged with the caterer even before I had finished sorting my Halloween candy."

"Sounds like a big deal if there's a caterer."

"Not really," Alex shrugged. "She didn't really like to cook and always hated pot-lucks. She said that they were too difficult to organize who would bring what and people always got into fights over how to prepare the turkey. And by the time the dishes made the trip in someone's car, they were invariably cold and then everything would have to be reheated with only the ovens in our house." She gave a sad, half-smile. "Mother is always logical about anything she does."

"Who comes to Thanksgiving? Do you have a big family?" Olivia asked, curious. Other than Alex's uncle who was a judge, she had never heard anything about the blonde's family.

"Not terribly large. My mother has three brothers – Bill, you know is the judge; Timothy is a surgeon, and Gary is a Senator in Maryland. I have…" Alex paused to count, "Seven cousins and thirteen nieces and nephews on that side of the family." She smiled and there was no trace of sadness in her face, only pride. "They are all in school right now," she mused, "probably putting together Christmas lists to pass around to the aunts and uncles at Thanksgiving." Her smile faded. "And I won't be there."

Olivia had no response. She wished there were something she could say to ease Alex's pain, but there wasn't. She turned her hand over, catching Alex's fingers and entwining them in her own. "My mom always tried to make Thanksgiving special," she said, staring down at their locked hands. "We had our rough times, but that was something that she always tried to do right. I think her family made a big deal of it when she was a kid, and that stuck. She always made us a whole turkey, even though there were only the two of us to eat it." She chuckled, "From Thanksgiving to Christmas break, I had turkey sandwiches in my lunch every day, just trying to get rid of the leftovers."

"It was always just the two of you? I know your mom was an only child, but weren't her parents around?"

Olivia bit her lip. "I only ever met my grandparents a few times. I didn't understand until I was older… they never forgave my mom for keeping me. Abortions were illegal and dangerous back when she was raped, but they still thought that she should have given me up for adoption. They always had to make excuses for my mom being unmarried and with a child. Then she started drinking and they had to make excuses for that too. Plus, I don't think they were very comfortable having a rapist's spawn running around."

Alex's brow furrowed. "Is that how you thought of yourself?" she asked.

"It's what I am," Olivia stated flatly. "It's something I had to come to grips with a long time ago." She shrugged half-heartedly. "I used to be angry that my grandparents never wanted to know me. But then I realized that a lot of people would probably feel that way if they knew the truth about me. When I was in middle school, I told one of my friends about why I didn't have a dad. By the end of the week, it was all over the school." She stopped, but Alex nudged her on. "A couple kids cornered me in the locker room. I was black-and-blue by the time I got home, but the other kids looked worse. When I told my mom what happened, she took a belt to me. She said that only people like my father resort to violence to solve their problems and that I had to learn not to give in to whatever evil was in my genes." Olivia gave a wry grin. "I think she was too drunk to realize the irony of the fact that she wore her arm out on my back while she was lecturing me. The next time they jumped me, I didn't fight back. I ended up in the hospital with a broken arm and we moved that summer to a new school district. I knew better than to mention my parentage again. And it took me a while to realize the difference between violence and standing up for myself."

"But you did figure it out eventually," Alex said. She had seen Olivia exercise remarkable self-control, even when dealing with the worst of criminals. Elliot had a tendency to get a little rough during arrests, especially with child-molesters, but Alex had never heard of Olivia losing control. She used the necessary force to get her job done and then walked away.

"I made enough mistakes along the way," Olivia said, remembering the time her mother had broken a wine bottle over her head and then come at her with the shattered pieces. Olivia remembered the terror she had felt and how easily that fear morphed into a violent outburst that left her mother crumpled on the floor halfway across the room. "There were plenty days that I had to walk out of interrogation just to keep myself from completely losing it. Elliot on his worst days has... Elliot had nothing on what I would do if I let myself cross that line."

"But you never did," Alex said. "You never let it control you."

"No. But it was always there. Just the fact that I had to work so hard to control it was a constant reminder of the violence that I inherited."

She said it so matter-of-factly that Alex almost missed the underlying meaning in her last statement. "You're nothing like the man who fathered you." She saw that Olivia was not listening. "_Nothing_ like him," Alex repeated. "You are strong and brave and patient and one of the most caring people I know."

This was the second time she had said this to Olivia and Olivia brushed her off now, just as she had before. The detective pulled her hand away from Alex's and lowered her eyes, refusing to meet Alex's piercing gaze. Alex watched as Olivia visibly withdrew and it was as if the brunette was curling in upon herself without moving.

"Elliot always loved the holidays," Olivia said after a few minutes, stubbornly changing the subject. "Not Thanksgiving so much as Christmas. No matter how heavy our caseload, he always made time to go shopping for his kids. And he'd take them to midnight Mass and then out to breakfast right afterward. Kathy always complained that the kids were too tired to get up on Christmas morning because they'd been out until 3 or 4 the night before. She said Christmas morning was a joke – in the Stabler house, it was always Christmas afternoon."

Alex could hear the pain in Olivia's voice and the way her voice caught when she talked about Elliot.

"I still can't believe that he's dead," Olivia said. "I keep thinking that they are going to find us and that it will be Elliot who bursts in the door with the SWAT team. But then…" she choked on the words, "I remember what he looked like when they shot him. There was so much blood, Alex. He was the only one of us who really had a family and those bastards killed him. His kids… What are his kids going to do now? How on earth is Kathy going to raise four kids on her own?"

Alex took Olivia's hand in both of hers and squeezed. "I'm sure they'll be alright. I don't know Kathy that well, but I know that she will do whatever it takes to take care of her kids."

Olivia fell silent. Alex pulled her closer, gently tugging on her arm until Olivia slid into her embrace and allowed Alex to wrap her arms around her. "I've tried for most of my life to avoid acting out in violence," she said, her voice muffled. "But if I ever get the chance, I want to kill them – all of them – for murdering Elliot and for what they've done to us. I want to see them pay for what they've done."

"They will," Alex soothed. "Whenever the police find us, they will arrest every one of these sorry bastards and they will all spend the rest of their lives in jail."

Olivia snorted. "No, they won't," she said. "They're drug dealers. They will slip through the cracks and cut deals with the DA's office to flip on those higher up the chain. Probably most of them will be back on the street in less than a year."

Alex wanted to argue, to say that her office would never do such a thing. But she knew that it was true – the justice system didn't care about justice for small-time drug dealers. They were interested in convicting those at the top. So all the people on the bottom could weasel and worm their way out of heavy sentences just by testifying against those above them. Alex knew that she couldn't refute Olivia's statement, so she just sighed and tightened her arm around Olivia's waist, as if by drawing them together she would be able to avoid the cold, hard, brutal reality of their situation.

* * *

><p><strong>November 15, 2003<strong>

Alex woke up again to the sound of Olivia throwing up. She slipped out of bed and padded across the cold floor to where Olivia was bent over the toilet. After Olivia finished, she sat back and leaned against the wall next to Alex. Alex scooted closer and slipped her arm around Olivia's shoulders. The brunette was shaking.

Alex took a deep breath; she had an idea of what might be making Olivia sick. For more than a week, Olivia had been sick nearly every morning. She was sleeping more than usual and had unpredictable swings in both mood and appetite. Alex had watched and noticed all of this, but was never sure of quite how to bring up her concern. "Olivia," she began, "we've been here over three weeks now, right?"

Olivia nodded, her eyes closed. "Something like that. I think it's been about a month now." Alex's arm around her was comforting and Olivia leaned into the embrace, resting her head on Alex's shoulder.

"And you haven't had your period." Alex stated softly.

"Alex, don't…" Olivia said, a warning in her voice. Her face was drawn and tight with worry; Alex knew that she had not been alone in her suspicions.

"Liv, it's possible that you might…"

"I don't want to think about it." Olivia interrupted. She lifted her head and pulled away enough to look Alex in the face. "Lots of women miss their periods in high stress situations. I'm sure it's nothing."

"But to miss your period and be sick like this every morning?" Alex plied.

"No," Olivia denied stubbornly. "I'm not pregnant. I'm not."

"Liv…"

"Drop it, Alex," Olivia snapped. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to even consider the possibility. So leave it."

Olivia shrugged Alex's arm off her shoulders and pushed herself up to her feet. She crossed her arms over her chest and paced the length of the room. Alex didn't get up. She stayed where she was, watching. Olivia's emotional response had only increased her suspicion that Olivia might be pregnant.

Olivia paced back and forth, back and forth, from the gate to the back wall near the shower. Alex's eyes followed her movement. It was painful to watch. Olivia knew the symptoms of pregnancy as well as any other woman, but she seemed to be in fairly adamant denial. Alex hoped that she was wrong – that Olivia really did just have the flu. But she didn't think that was the case.

Finally, Alex got to her feet. She intercepted Olivia in the middle of her pacing. Olivia stiffened when she felt Alex's arms slip around her. The blonde pulled her back into the embrace and rested her chin on Olivia's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Liv," Alex apologized. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Olivia wrapped her arms on top of Alex's. "I'm not pregnant," she said, ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "I can't be," she insisted.

Alex got the idea that Olivia was trying to convince herself more than anything else. "Alright, Olivia. I won't bring it up again."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I hope you all enjoy! Please leave a **REVIEW** with any comments/questions/criticism, etc.

For those of you who are reading "Revenge," I know that I need to update and I'll work on it this weekend. I've been having terrible writer's block on that one lately. *sigh* I promise I'll get back to work on it, though. A couple people have asked me if that's the end of it, and I want to assure you all that it is not. When "Revenge" is over... *grins evilly* you will all know it.

**Another A/N: **I can't remember if I said this before or not, but I plan for this story to be at least as long as "Revenge," if not longer. Just to give you all an idea of where we are...


	17. From one Monster to Another

**November 16, 2003**

Alex woke to the sound of the chain on the gate sliding open. She disentangled herself from Olivia's arms and pushed away, not wanting Zapata's men to see them holding each other. She pulled the covers down and peeked out. Zapata was heading her way and he looked pissed. Alex hastily slipped out of bed. Olivia shifted in her sleep, rolling over into the warm space that Alex had just vacated.

"Are you done bleeding, bitch?" Zapata growled.

"No," Alex lied quietly. She wanted him to believe her, wanted him to leave her alone and give her a few more days respite. She should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Zapata grabbed her by her hair and shoved her down over the bed. Alex bit back a quiet _uumph_ as she hit the bed. Her eyes shot to Olivia, only a few inches away. The detective frowned and her brow furrowed. _Please don't wake up. Please don't wake up_, Alex thought as she felt Zapata yank her pants down to pool around her ankles. Without warning, he thrust two fingers inside her. Alex grimaced and bit her lip.

He removed his fingers and there was a long pause. Alex waited, her whole body tense, afraid to move. She felt the linen of Zapata's suit brush against her as he leaned over. "You lied to me," he purred dangerously. "You're going to pay for that."

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Zapata returned to the cell for Olivia. She was still asleep, but she woke quickly as his rough hands seized her and jerked her out of bed. Olivia scanned the room quickly: Alex was gone.<p>

Olivia scrambled, pulling free of Zapata's grip and running. Her blood pounded in her ears and she could hear his footsteps beating on the ground behind her. She ran, zigging and zagging, staying just a pace or two ahead of him. The longer she could keep him here, the longer Alex would have to send out an email for help. Olivia sucked in a deep breath and pushed out another burst of speed. Zapata cursed and accelerated.

The room was too small to evade him for long. Olivia saw the wall looming closer. She pushed forward, feeling her legs burn. After a month of captivity, her muscles were unaccustomed to this strain. She slammed against the wall, using her arms to brace and cushion the impact. As quickly as she hit the wall, she pushed away, using the momentum that her body still carried to redirect her away from the wall. Zapata was not as prepared. He was intent on catching her and reached out to grab her a second before he hit the wall himself.

Olivia ducked, evading his grip, and Zapata crashed against the wall. Olivia spun around, grabbing his arm and wrenching it up behind his back. Zapata grunted in pain and Olivia twisted further. She wanted to break his arm. She could, so easily. Olivia pushed upward and could feel his muscles straining. Another inch – one more, short burst of force from her – and she could destroy his arm.

Zapata was cursing, hissing obscenities in a stream of Spanish and English. Olivia was so focused on holding him down and maintaining control that most of his words rushed past her. Only when she heard Alex's name did she sharpen her ears and listen.

"You bitch! You fucking whore! Let go of me right now or I swear you will never see Alexandra again."

Olivia growled deep in her throat. She wanted to break his arm. She wanted to kill him. But the red haze that clouded her thoughts was receding. If she hurt him, he could hurt or kill both of them. If she killed him, his men would surely kill them both. Olivia shoved him forward, slamming him against the wall, and then released him.

Zapata stumbled. His right arm swung limply at his side, stiff and sore from the strain Olivia had put on it. He lurched forward and Olivia darted away again. She tried to guess how long it had been – whether Alex had had time to get a message out. She wasn't sure. A shout distracted her and Olivia glanced to the side. One of Zapata's guards had heard the commotion and was running toward the.

The momentary distraction was all it took to slow her down just enough for Zapata to catch her. Olivia yelped in surprise as his fist closed around the neck of her shirt and yanked her back. She whirled around, aiming her elbow for the pit of Zapata's stomach, but he deflected her blow. He looped his arm around her neck and both of her hands flew up to hold him off. It took all her effort just to keep him from locking a chokehold into place; she didn't see how close the second man was until his punch landed squarely on her solar plexus.

Olivia gasped as the breath rushed out of her lungs. The second punch connected with her side, just over her kidney. Olivia felt weak at the knees. Zapata released his hold on her neck and shoved her forward.

She fell to the ground and rolled back up onto her knees. Before she could get to her feet, the second man kicked her in the stomach. Olivia saw stars. She couldn't speak, couldn't think as pain exploded in her gut. She crumpled forward. "Please," she gasped. "Please stop. Please don't." It hurt to move and she didn't know if she was actually speaking or only thinking the words. She crawled forward, pulling herself away from the cruel men who stood over her. They kicked her, over and over again. Their heavy blows fell on her ribs, legs, and back.

Olivia was on her knees and elbows, her fingers interlaced behind her neck to protect her head. Her forehead pressed against the rough concrete floor. Her body felt heavy. She didn't think that she could move if she tried. "_Enough_," she heard Zapata say and she wanted to sob in relief as the other man finally pulled away.

Zapata grabbed a handful of her short hair and wrenched her to her knees. Olivia sagged limply in his grasp. She knew that he was talking but couldn't hear what he was saying. She could only hope that she had managed to delay him long enough for Alex to get a message out. She opened her eyes and saw Zapata leaving. The other man pulled her toward the fence that made one wall of their prison. He shoved her face-first against the chain-link and pulled out two sets of handcuffs.

Olivia was too weak to resist as he cuffed her hands up above her head, her arms spread upward and to the sides. When he stepped away, Olivia slumped against the fence. The metal bracelets pinched her wrists and Olivia tried to regain her footing in order to alleviate the stress. It was no good. Their beating had left her completely drained. The chain-link pressed against her, digging into her skin. Olivia hung her head, resting her face against the chilly metal. _It was worth it_, she told herself. _If Alex got an email out, this will have been worth it._

* * *

><p>Alex pulled helplessly against the handcuffs. Her arms were locked up over her head with the chain of the handcuffs wrapped around the headboard. The minutes ticked by and every second was more painful than the last. She knew that Olivia was fighting and fighting hard to give her the time she needed to send a message for help. Olivia had no way of knowing that Alex was tied down and completely unable to get to the computer that Zapata had left on just a few feet away from the bed.<p>

When Zapata finally reappeared in the doorway, his clothes were rumpled and his face contorted with anger. "Get up," he growled.

"I can't," Alex snapped, rattling the handcuffs against the headboard. Zapata's eyes clouded and Alex immediately knew that she had made a mistake. Her worry for Olivia had made her forget her caution for herself.

"It seems that a few days away from me made you forget yourself," he snarled. His eyes flashed with rage and Alex's momentary bravado shriveled. He fished in his pocket for the key and unlocked Alex's wrists. "Sit up."

Alex sat carefully, scooting to the edge of the bed. She could feel his semen running out of her to pool on the bed beneath her bare thighs.

Zapata opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a bag. "Get dressed," he said, tossing her the bag.

Alex opened it uncertainly. Inside, she found a linen pencil skirt and a blouse. "What is this?" she asked.

"Special occasion," Zapata replied ambiguously. "I want you to look nice."

Once Alex was dressed, Zapata recuffed her hands behind her back. He reached around and skimmed his hand up her bare thigh under the skirt. "You seem to have forgotten your manners," he purred. "I think somebody needs a lesson." He pulled her to the doorway and shoved her out into the main room.

Alex gasped when she saw Olivia and tried to run forward, but Zapata held her back. "You lied to me this morning," he reminded her. "Somebody has to pay for that." Zapata nodded to the guard standing next to Olivia. The man pulled his belt free of his pants and snapped it threateningly.

"No," Alex begged. "Please, no. I lied to you, punish _me_. Not her, please not her…"

Zapata pulled her to the center of the room, shoving her down on her knees. "Both of you have pissed me off today," he rumbled. "And you know my rules. They haven't changed. When you fuck up, she pays the price." He bent over and hissed in her ear, "Just be glad that I have things to do today and don't have time to arrange a more… entertaining punishment." He straightened again. The man behind Olivia jerked her shirt up, pulling it up to her shoulders to expose her back. He stepped back and swung. The leather snapped against Olivia's bare skin and the detective jerked. She opened her eyes and her panicked gaze found Alex, kneeling on the floor with Zapata behind her.

Olivia opened her mouth, but whatever she might have said was overtaken by a gasping cry as the belt struck her again.

Zapata pulled Alex around to face him and undid his pants, freeing his erection. "The sooner you get me off, the sooner my man stops beating your friend." Alex hesitated and Zapata, impatient, fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her mouth to him.

It seemed to take forever. As soon as Zapata had shot his seed down Alex's throat, he called out to his guard and the sickening thud of leather on skin ceased. Alex turned and saw the man uncuff Olivia. She sagged to the floor, collapsing into a heap at the foot of the fence. Zapata's heavy hands held Alex from getting up and running to her. "Alexandra, if you move from this spot, I will shoot your cop in the head right now. I told you that I have a schedule to keep today and I don't have time to deal with any more of your misbehavior. Do you understand me?"

Alex nodded, her voice frozen. Zapata patted her on the head. "Good."

He turned his back on her and went to the fence, squatting down next to Olivia. The detective's stirred slowly, trying and failing to push herself up to a sitting position. "Hey," Zapata called softly. Olivia stirred, opening her eyes. "That whipping you just took was for Alexandra's mistake. We still have to deal with the matter of you fighting me earlier." Olivia whimpered, in too much pain to form coherent words. "Sit up," he commanded. Olivia linked her fingers through the fence and pulled against it, hauling herself upright. "I want you to look at Alexandra," Zapata whispered. "Look hard."

Olivia swallowed, unsure of what was about to happen.

"I want you to remember how she looks right now." Zapata glanced over his shoulder and smiled. He stood up and looked down at Olivia. "Because this is the last time you will see her," he finished with a smile. He had planned to take Alex today anyway – he had arranged to meet his pilot at a small airfield in upstate New York so that they could fly to Columbia tonight. He hadn't intended to say anything to the cop, but then she had decided to fight him. It meant that he could tell her it was her fault that she would never see Alexandra again. It made his plan so much sweeter to see the emotional agony he inflicted on both of them.

It took a second for his meaning to sink in. By the time Olivia realized what he had said, Zapata had pulled Alex to her feet and leading her to the stairs at the far end of the room.

"NO!" Olivia screamed. "ALEX! _Alex!_" Alex and Zapata were climbing the stairs now, and the guard followed just behind them. Olivia could see that Alex was fighting, but Zapata's firm grip on her arm propelled her up the stairs. "No, no, _no_!" Olivia sobbed. "Please no!"

Alex heard Olivia's screams. "What did you say to her?" she snarled at Zapata. "What's going on?" He didn't reply, only pushed her up the stairs. Alex stumbled, struggling to turn around and get back to Olivia. Zapata opened the door at the top of the stairs.

He took a step back in shock. "What are you doing?" he asked. Raul, his second in command, was standing in the doorway.

Raul surveyed the situation. "I'd hoped that we wouldn't come to this," he said.

Zapata tightened his grip on Alex's arm, his fingers digging into her pale skin hard enough to leave bruises. "Come to what?" he asked.

"Look," Raul said, "Velez has not been happy with you lately. You know that."

"I've got it taken care of," Zapata retorted. "I've got my court date in two weeks, I'll get it all settled."

"That would have been fine," Raul said. "But let's be honest. You fucked up and you not going to be able to wriggle out of it in court. And you fucked up more by taking those two. It exposed all of us to the cops and I've been working to keep everything running and cover your ass for the last month. But then Velez found out that you were talking to FARC. Let me tell you: that did not make him happy. I told him, no, of course you would not betray him – betray us – like that. He told me to wait here and see if you tried to make a move today. And guess what? Here you are…."

Zapata was sweating now. "Give me your phone. I'll call Velez. We'll get this worked out."

"It's already been worked out," Raul replied. "Face it, I've been running the show for the last month anyway. Nobody is going to miss you." He drew his gun and leveled it at Zapata's chest. "Sorry." He fired.

Alex screamed. Zapata's limp body fell backward down the stairs. Alex tumbled back with him, pulled down by his grip on her arm. She slid down several stairs before finally managing to stop her fall. Zapata's blood covered the stairwell and stained her blouse.

Raul descended the stairs and pulled Alex to her feet. She looked at him through wide eyes. He was tall, taller than she was. He smiled at her and his teeth shone against his cappuccino skin. Unlike Zapata, who was always dressed in a neatly pressed suit, Raul wore dark denim jeans, a white shirt that hugged his chest, and a leather jacket that only partially covered the tattoo of _La Santa Muerta_ that crept up his neck. Alex shook her head slowly; she knew that she was in shock and was having a hard time thinking straight. She looked up at this new man in a daze.

"Alexandra Cabot, right?" he asked. Alex nodded mutely. "You're better off with him dead," he said.

Alex was shaking. "What's going to happen now?"

Raul cocked his head as he regarded her. "Take her back to their cell," he ordered, speaking over his shoulder to one of the other men. "I have to talk with the captains and let them know that there has been a change in command. I'll figure out what to do with them later."

* * *

><p><strong>AN** - ooh, I was bad today. I have so much work to do, but instead of doing my work, I end up writing fanfiction all weekend. I hope you all enjoy - **Reviews** will make me feel better as I stay up late tonight doing all the stuff I should have done this morning/afternoon.


	18. Chapter 18

Olivia stopped breathing. She could have sworn her heart stopped beating. Zapata had told her that she would never see Alex again. She had seen Zapata lead Alex up the stairs. There had been a pause, filled with muffled voices, and then a gunshot. Olivia closed her eyes as she heard a body tumble down the stairs. She couldn't bear to look; afraid that if she opened her eyes, she would see Alex's corpse.

Her lungs cried for air, but Olivia could not remember how to breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut and her whole body trembled. _No, no! Oh God, no! Not Alex, please, no…_ Olivia's eyes were burning. She gasped in a heaving breath of air and the tears began. She felt her entire body wracked by violent sobs. _No, this can't be happening. First Elliot, now Alex… _Her shoulders shook with each gasping breath and the fence rattled noisily with the vibrations of her sobs.

It took a while for her to calm down enough to open her eyes. As soon as she did, she wished that she hadn't. At the foot of the stairs, she could see a pool of blood. _Alex's blood._ There was no body. Zapata's men must have carried her away with them.

Olivia tried to stand, but her legs wouldn't support her weight. They shook under her and gave out. Olivia didn't know if her weakness was from shock or from the beating she had taken. _Probably both, _she decided. She pressed her hand over her eyes, trying to stem the unending flow. Alex was gone. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't bring herself to accept it.

_My fault_. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks and Olivia gasped for air. _This is my fault_. _Zapata killed her because I fought him. _The sudden guilt was suffocating. It was all that she could feel. Bile rose in her throat and Olivia turned, choking as she vomited. It was all she could do to hold herself up. Her arms shook and her legs felt like jelly. When her stomach stopped heaving, Olivia collapsed and rolled to the side.

She crawled. It took an agonizingly long time to make her way to the bed. She pulled herself up and curled up underneath the covers. She could feel the blood from her torn back seeping through her shirt and knew that it would stain the sheets. She didn't care.

Olivia pulled the blanket up to her chin. She wasn't tired. It had only been a few hours since she'd woken up. It didn't matter. _My fault. Alex is dead. My fault. Alex is dead. Alex is dead. Alex is dead._

As Olivia wept, she looked through the fence and focused her gaze on Zapata's closed door. An icy rage filled her. There was no room in her head for conscious thought, only a single, driving rage: _I will kill him._ She had come so close this morning; she might have succeeded if he hadn't threatened Alex. But now he had killed Alex and there was nothing to stop Olivia from killing him the next chance she got, no matter the cost. There had never been any hope of escape and precious little hope of rescue.

Olivia had worked hard her entire life to keep her anger in check, to not let it control her the way she saw Elliot's control him at times. But she knew now that if she got the chance, she would give the monster its head. With Alex gone, there was nothing left to live for.

She closed her eyes.

* * *

><p>Sometime later, Olivia heard the sound of chain sliding over metal and knew that someone was opening the gate. She didn't look. She didn't want to see what was happening. Footsteps approached. Olivia lay still. She didn't turn to see who it was; she didn't make any attempt to rise. She didn't care what they did anymore. A hand touched her shoulder and Olivia flinched away. "Please," she begged. "Please, just kill me too."<p>

"Liv?" a soft voice whispered.

Olivia could hardly believe her ears. "Alex?" She looked up. Through tear-blurred eyes, she could make out the face of the blonde lawyer. Olivia blinked in surprise. "Alex? But I thought… I heard a gunshot… I thought they…." Her thoughts were disjointed and she knew her words were not making sense. Alex sat on the bed next to her. Olivia sat up, groaning softly as the movement jarred her bruise-covered body. "I thought they killed you," Olivia finished. She wrapped her arms around Alex and buried her face in the blonde's neck. "God, Alex, I thought you were dead."

Alex hugged her close. Olivia's tears quickly soaked through her blouse and to her skin. "I'm here, Liv," she whispered. "I'm here." She wrapped her arms around Olivia, holding her close and running her fingers through the thick, dark hair, reassuring herself that they were both alive, both still together.

"He… he told me… that I'd never see you again. And then… he took you away and I heard the gunshot. I saw the blood. I thought it was you. Alex... you –" Olivia pulled away and looked at Alex. "Alex, you're covered in blood!" Her hands moved frantically over Alex's blood-soaked blouse, trying to find the source.

"It's not mine," she said quietly, turning her face away. "It's Zapata's."

Olivia was stunned. "What? He's dead? Zapata is dead?"

Alex nodded.

"Tell me what happened."

Alex leaned into her and Olivia bit back a whimper as Alex's head bumped against fresh bruises. "He was acting… strange… all morning. He said something about a deal he had made, and… I don't know." She ran a hand through her hair. The whole morning was a blur. "Then he left, and…"

"Did you send the email?" Olivia asked, suddenly remembering the reason that she had fought so hard against Zapata this morning, the reason that her whole body ached.

Alex's eyes were watery. "No," she whispered. "I was tied up… I couldn't get to the computer."

Olivia bit her lip. The plan for Alex to get to the computer had really been their only hope at getting out a cry for help. That plan had failed. "Then what?"

"Then he dragged me out here. His guard beat you…"

"I remember that part," Olivia cut in wryly.

"There was someone waiting at the top of the stairs." Alex pursed her lips, trying to remember what she could of the conversation she had overheard. "Someone else who worked for the cartel – I don't know the name." She remembered the face though. She remembered how the man had been smiling and pleasant as he spoke to Zapata – right up until he put a bullet through the man's heart. The thought gave her chills. "Cesár Velez was upset that Zapata was in so much trouble with the courts… and that abducting the two of us had attracted too much attention. Apparently Velez ordered Zapata killed. Somebody else is taking his place."

"But it's been… it's been a while since the gunshot. What happened after?"

"He told one of the guards to take me back here." Alex bit her lip. "The guard had other ideas of what to do first." She didn't elaborate. She didn't need to. Alex turned into Olivia and leaned against the detective's shoulder.

Olivia pressed her lips to the top of Alex's head and rubbed her hand in gentle circles over Alex's back. She could feel the soft tremors as Alex started to cry. She knew that Alex hated crying, so she pretended not to notice. "It's alright," she whispered, her heart heavy. "We're going to get through this. We're going to be alright." Olivia held Alex close while the other woman wept. "Did they say anything about what they are going to do with us now?"

"No," Alex said softly. "I don't know what's going to happen."

* * *

><p><strong>November 18, 2003<strong>

Cragen was just about to head home for the day when he got a phone call from the ME's office. He had already packed away all the paperwork that could be left until tomorrow, sent his detectives home, and said goodnight to the pictures of Olivia, Elliot, and Alex that sat on his desk.

"Don? It's Melinda. I have a body that I think you need to see."

Cragen sighed. He had already sent his detectives home for the night. It looked like he'd have to call them back in to get started on a new case. "Rape victim?" he assumed.

"No. Rafael Zapata."

Cragen was stunned into a momentary silence. "Are you sure it's him?" he finally choked out.

"I had CSU double check the fingerprints before I called you. Homicide is working the case."

Fifteen minutes later, Cragen was in the morgue, staring down at the body of the man he knew was responsible for Olivia and Alex's disappearance and for Elliot's "death." The man's face was slack in death, and a white sheet covered the gaping hole that had decimated his chest. "Have you found anything that could lead us to Benson and Cabot?" he asked.

Melinda shook her head. "Not yet. I called you as soon as I got back here with the body. I've just started doing the prelim visual inspection. Do you want to watch?"

Cragen ducked his head, his hands in his pockets. He had been out of the field for a long time and it had been even longer since he'd been around dead bodies. But if there was any chance of finding a clue to Olivia and Alex's location, he wanted to know as soon as possible. "I'll stay."

"Alright, then," Melinda said as she replaced her facemask. "Let's get started." She pulled back the sheet, uncovering Zapata's corpse.

It was slow work. Melinda was diligent and dedicated to her work. She talked through the whole process, allowing Cragen, her assistant, the waiting police officer and her recorder to listen to her thoughts. She started at the head and worked her way down, cutting off his clothes and placing them carefully in the evidence bags under the cop's careful supervision. As soon as he had every last scrap of fabric, including the shoes, the cop left, with strict orders from Cragen to make sure that CSU put a rush on the evidence.

"So what can you tell me?" Cragen asked Melinda. "Anything?"

"He's been dead about forty-eight hours," Melinda stated. "In the water for somewhere between twenty-four and thirty-six."

"Any clue on where he was killed?"

"Not yet," Melinda replied, with a hint of a bite in her voice. She was used to only her assistants being present during autopsy and all her assistants knew better than to interrupt. "The corpse was tied to one of the bridge supports, below the tide line. They wanted him to be found, but they wanted all evidence washed away first." She turned back to the body.

"I can tell you he was killed at close range," Melinda said. "Probably from less than three feet, with a medium-caliber handgun. It was a through-and-through, so no bullet for CSU to check out."

"How about anything that can tell us where he was living? If he had Benson and Cabot, then if we can find where he was staying…"

"I know, Don," Melinda said sharply. "Trust me, I know. If there is _anything_ that can lead us to them, I will find it."

"Or anything that will lead us to his killer."

Both Don and Melinda turned in surprise at the unexpected voice. A plain-clothes detective stepped forward, flashing his badge. "Captain Cragen, I am Detective Hertz with Homicide. I'm investigating the Zapata case. Dr. Warner told me she'd be calling you in to watch the autopsy."

"Detective Hertz." Cragen took the man's hand. "I trust you know the situation?"

"Yes, sir. You think that Rafael Zapata was responsible for Detective Stabler's death and for abducting Detective Benson and A.D.A. Cabot."

"That's right," Cragen said. "And this body is the best lead we've had so far to finding them. So your priority might be finding his killer, but my priority is finding my detective and getting her back alive."

"I understand, sir. I will keep you in the loop on my investigation."

Melinda straightened up. "Cragen? Hertz?" They both turned.

"What did you find?" Cragen asked, rushing to the table.

"It might be nothing…" She gripped something with a pair of tweezers. "But hand me an evidence bag."

"What do you have?" Cragen repeated.

"A hair," Hertz said slowly as Melinda dropped the hair into the clear plastic bag.

"A long, blonde hair," Melinda clarified. "There's no follicle, so it's unlikely they'll be able to get DNA. But I can check to see if it's a visual match to Alex."

"And if it is?" Cragen sounded anxious. "Will that be enough to get a warrant to search his properties for them?"

Melinda shook her head. "Not without DNA. Not a chance."

"Where did you find the hair?" Hertz asked. "I thought all the evidence was washed away by the tide?"

"He was still dressed when they dumped the body," Melinda said. "His pants kept it from being washed away. It was caught in his pubic hairs."

The full implication of Melinda's matter-of-fact statement took a moment to sink in. Cragen grimaced as the realization hit him. "But if that is Alex's," he pressed on, "then that means she is still alive."

"Or at the very least it makes it likely that she was alive a few days ago," Melinda cautioned. "Even _if _Zapata was keeping Alex and Olivia and even _if_ this is Alex's hair – which I have no way to prove or disprove – and even _if_ Alex and Olivia are still together, assuming they were kept together in the first place… even if all that is true, then we still have no way of knowing that they are still alive or in the same place. For all we know, Zapata's killer could have killed Alex and Olivia as well and we just haven't found the bodies yet."

Cragen shook his head. "I'm overwhelmed by your optimism," he said dryly.

Melinda snapped her gloves off. She walked over to Cragen and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Don, I'm sorry. I wish I could be more positive. I wish I could give you more to go on and maybe I'll find something else in the rest of the autopsy. I just… I don't think I could take it for all of us to get our hopes up and not find them."

"Melinda, please. Find _something_. Give me something to work with."

Cragen was too busy pleading, grasping for some small strand of hope; he didn't notice the emotion rising in the Medical Examiner's eyes. Hertz did. Hertz saw that Melinda was barely holding herself together. This was understandably difficult for her. "Captain Cragen," he interrupted. "Why don't we let Dr. Warner continue with the autopsy? It's late – let me buy you a cup of coffee while we wait for the results."

Cragen stepped back. "No. No, I'm fine. I've just got to step out and make a phone call."

"We'll be here when you get back," Hertz said.

Cragen stepped out. Melinda wiped her arm across her face and reached for a new pair of gloves. "Hand me the scalpel," she said to her assistant. "Time to open him up."

In the hall just outside the autopsy room, Cragen pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number that he had memorized that day in the park with Kathy. "Hello? This is Captain Donald Cragen with the NYPD. I'd like to speak to the marshal responsible for Elliot Stabler. Yes, I'll hold." Cragen paced while he waited. Finally, the same voice came back on the line. Cragen's face fell in disappointment. "Yes, yes, I understand. Well, if you could let the marshal know that the man responsible for the threat against Detective Stabler is dead. Yes, that's all. Thank you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Please **review**! Your reviews make me so very happy! A healthy round of reviews will be enough to keep me alive and well through final papers and exams.

Also, I'm hitting a little bit of writer's block with "Revenge." I promise I will continue to work on it ASAP.


	19. Chapter 19

**November 16, 2003**

_Olivia slipped out of bed. The concrete floor was ice against her bare feet. The room that had been her and Alex's prison for so long was bathed in an eerie green light. She moved forward. The gate was unlocked; the chain had fallen to the floor and lay curled up like a dead snakeskin. The gate swung open with barely a touch from Olivia. She walked out. _

_The stairs at the other end of the large room beckoned her forward. Olivia moved quietly, slowly. She drifted across to the foot of the stairs and looked up. The thick steel door at the top was ajar. As she climbed, the stairs seemed to grow longer, the door farther away. It took entirely too long, but finally she reached the top. _

_When she pushed the door open, Olivia walked into the squadroom of the 1-6 Precinct. The lights were off, as they often were when she stayed late working. The emergency lights always stayed on and a few desk lamps were enough to work by. Olivia glanced at her desk – it was strangely empty, cleared of the usual stacks of paperwork. Elliot's desk was piled high, as always. His desk lamp was on and the beam of light shone down on a framed photograph of Elliot and his kids. _

_Olivia frowned. Something wasn't right. Elliot did always keep a picture of his kids nearby, but he kept it in his locker, in his wallet, or locked in a desk drawer – not out in the open where every perv they brought through the precinct could see. She moved toward their desks, suddenly afraid. Blood pounded in her ears. She stepped closer and looked down._

_Elliot's body lay on the floor at her feet. Olivia dropped to her knees. Her hands flew over him, checking for a pulse – for any sign of life. She found a feeble pulse. "Elliot!" she gasped. "El, wake up. Don't leave me, El. You have to stay with me."_

_He groaned and one hand reached up to close on her wrist. "Liv," he whispered. Olivia could smell blood on his breath – the scent of death. _

"_Stay with me," Olivia repeated. "Come on, stay with me." Tears welled up and spilled down her face and her words were a mantra, as if by repeating them she could tether Elliot to life. _

_His eyes closed. His grip on her wrist slackened and his arm fell to the ground with a thud. There was no more pulse. Olivia's hands were coated in his blood. She looked around the empty precinct. "Help me!" she screamed. "Somebody help me!" But there was nobody there, nobody to answer her cries. _

_Olivia stood. Her pants were slick from kneeling in the pool of blood that surrounded Elliot. She braced her hands on the desk as she stood, leaving red handprints on a closed manila folder. Her shoes left bloody footprints. Olivia looked down at the floor, puzzled. She could have sworn she was barefoot just a few moments before. "Help!" she screamed again. "Help!"_

_There was no answer. _

_Olivia ran. Cragen's office was empty. The crib was empty. The bathrooms were empty. _

_She stopped, bent double, leaning against the wall, gasping for air. The sound of her breath echoed in the dimly lit hallway. _

_Then there was another sound. Olivia straightened and followed the noise. It grew louder and clearer as she pressed on – it was a woman screaming. Olivia's heart caught in her throat. She knew that voice._

_Olivia ran the final distance to the cells where they kept perps in temporary lock-up. She burst through the doors. Alex was pinned against the wall. A man in a gray, linen suit held a dark hand at her throat. "Help me," Alex mouthed. _

"_Leave her alone," Olivia cried, dashing forward. Zapata turned and smiled, but did not release Alex. Chills ran down Olivia's spine. "Leave her alone," she repeated. _

"_Or what?" Zapata mocked. "What are you going to do?" _

"_I will kill you," Olivia stated coldly. She lifted her hand and pointed her gun at Zapata. _Odd_, she thought. _I didn't know I had a gun_. _

"_What are you going to do with that?" he sneered, pulling Alex away from the wall and spinning her around, holding her up as a human shield. _

_Alex was calm, and her face dry of tears. She stood straight, ignoring Zapata's tight grip around her. "Do it," she said softly. Her blue gaze locked with Olivia's. "We never were going to get out alive. He was always going to kill us. Just do it. Kill him now, Olivia, while you have the chance. It's the only justice we're ever going to get. Do it." _

_Olivia nodded, stepping closer. Her palms were sweating on the Glock's grip. She stared down the pistol's sight. Her eyes stung as she focused. _

_Zapata's smile taunted her. "Yes, Olivia. Do it." He pulled Alex up against him and hid behind her. "I just hope you have really good aim." _

_Olivia stepped closer. She was only ten feet away now. There was no way she could miss at ten feet. She lined up the shot, focusing on nothing but the sight of Zapata's head at the point of her gun. Her finger tightened on the trigger. _

_She missed. _

"_NO!" Olivia screamed. "NO! ALEX! Alex!"_

* * *

><p>Alex woke up in the middle of the night, sweating. Her arm was dead asleep, pinned by the weight of a warm body pressed close to her. Alex eased her arm out from under the woman spooned against her. Olivia was shaking.<p>

"Liv?" Alex whispered.

"No," Olivia murmured, her eyes screwed shut. "No! Alex… Alex…."

"Wake up." Alex smoothed the damp hair back from Olivia's face. "It's alright, Olivia. Wake up."

Olivia rolled over; her eyes opened slowly. "Alex?" Tear tracks glistened down her cheeks. Alex's fingertips traced lightly over Olivia's face. She brushed away the brunette's tears with the pad of her thumb. Olivia bit her lip, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Alex asked. Olivia shook her head. Alex drew her in closer. Olivia had always been there for her, to offer a hug or a word of comfort. Now it was Alex's turn. She wrapped her arms around Olivia and held her while she cried.

* * *

><p><strong>November 17, 2003<strong>

When Alex got up, Olivia was still asleep. Alex slipped out of bed, crossed over to the small fridge, and started breakfast. By the time the microwave dinged that the oatmeal was finished cooking, Olivia's eyes were open, though she stayed in bed, unmoving. "Want something to eat?" Alex offered.

Olivia wrinkled her nose. "No thanks," she replied.

Alex sat on the foot of the bed as she ate. She picked up the remote and flipped through a few channels. "I swear that Christmas advertising starts earlier and earlier every year," she remarked. "It's not even Thanksgiving yet, and look at all of this!"

"It starts early every year," Olivia said, sitting up slowly. "It just gets more annoying every year."

"You're right," Alex said with a laugh that sounded just a little too forced. "And it is barely a week to Thanksgiving. I guess this is about when it usually starts."

"Alex…" Olivia hugged her knees to her chest. "They are going to kill us. You know that, right?" Alex's words from her dream the previous night haunted her thoughts: _we were never going to get out alive. He was always going to kill us. _

"They might not," Alex said quietly. "We could escape… or the police will find us… or we could find some way to try to get in touch with somebody, or…"

But Olivia was shaking her head. "No. They're going to kill us. They can't afford to let us live. And we just sit here talking and watching TV and waiting, hoping that there will be a chance to escape. But there never will be."

"You can't give up, Olivia," was Alex's only comment. "There's nothing else we can do but keep hoping. You didn't let me give up when I felt like it; I'm not going to let you give up hope now."

"I gave up yesterday when I thought he'd killed you." Olivia raised her eyes to meet Alex's and Alex was pierced by the depth of pain they held. "And now I feel like… it's just a matter of time. He – Zapata – wanted to hurt us. He wanted to hurt you. He kept us here and kept us alive for that. But from what you saw yesterday, there's somebody new in charge. He's got no reason to keep us alive."

Alex felt a chill run through her, but she shook her head. "We're still alive now, aren't we?" she said. "If he wanted to kill us, he could have done it yesterday when he killed Zapata. But he didn't."

"That doesn't mean he won't."

"But he hasn't." Alex refused to give in to Olivia's depressed mood. "'You're alive, I'm alive,' you know?" she repeated Olivia's own words back to her. "That has to count for something."

Olivia sighed and reached one hand out to Alex. Alex took it and their hands rested on the thick bedspread, their fingers intertwined. "I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you," Olivia said, looking down. "Yesterday… I was so scared that I had lost you. He was going to separate us; he was sending you away." She glanced back up. "I can't… I can't lose you, Alex." She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "I need you."

Alex squeezed her hand. "I know," she said. "I need you too."

* * *

><p><strong>November 18, 2003<strong>

It was late afternoon when he showed up at the gate. Alex recognized him immediately: "That's the one who killed Zapata," she whispered to Olivia.

Olivia regarded him cautiously as he unlocked the door. He was flanked by two others and all three men were carrying guns. Olivia felt her heart sink. They had no better chance of fighting him than they had with Zapata. Olivia stood shoulder to shoulder with Alex. "Do you want to try to fight them?" she asked out of the corner of her mouth.

Alex paused. "Do you think we can win?" she whispered. Olivia eyed the men and their guns. She shook her head. "Then no," Alex said. "He doesn't know us. Maybe if he thinks we won't fight him, he'll slip up somewhere." Olivia scowled. She would rather fight a pro forma battle and lose than do nothing. But the new cartel leader and his men were closing in and the chance to whisper with Alex was gone.

"So," said Raul, "You are the two that Zapata got himself in so much trouble over."

"Yes," Alex responded. Her gaze was icy cold as she stared him down. She didn't like the way his eyes lingered on Olivia.

Raul turned his attention to her. He beckoned her forward with a finger. Alex stepped away from Olivia, projecting a calm she did not feel. "I saw you the other day - you're Alexandra. You're the one that Zapata was trading to FARC," he mused. Alex's back stiffened. She hadn't known what Zapata had planned and the revelation that he had intended to sell her to terrorists in Colombia was chilling. She heard Olivia's sharp intake of breath behind her.

"Yes."

Raul grinned at one of the men next to him. "Doesn't say much, does she?" he remarked.

The other man leered. "'s how a woman should be." He smiled, revealing a mouthful of chipped and discolored teeth, destroyed by long tobacco use.

Raul moved in closer and Alex resisted the urge to back down. She didn't look at him, didn't react as he stared at her. He trailed the back of one hand softly down her cheek. "So soft," he commented in a husky voice.

Olivia curled her hands into fists and tensed to step forward. "Unh, unh," said a male voice from beside her. Olivia cursed under her breath. While her attention had been on Alex and the new cartel leader, the third man had circled behind her. She felt his gun prod into the small of her back. "You just stay still now."

"So soft and so beautiful." Raul lifted a lock of Alex's hair and inhaled deeply. "I can see why Zapata liked you." Alex closed her eyes, but gave no other sign that she was aware of him. "I still haven't decided if I'm going to keep you," he said ponderously. "What do you think – are they worth the upkeep?" he said to the man with the bad teeth.

"You're the boss, boss," the man replied with a shrug.

Raul nodded slowly. "But I'm a reasonable boss," he said, taking Alex by the arm. "So I'm willing to listen to others' opinions. Why don't you come with me and see if you can convince me why I should let the two of you live?"

After Raul had taken Alex and disappeared into Zapata's old bedroom, the man behind Olivia eased his gun away from her. Olivia spun around. She turned directly into the man's fist. He struck her and she stumbled backward. Bad Teeth grabbed a fistful of her hair, preventing her from falling. The other man leveled his gun at Olivia's face; his arms were covered in prison tattoos. "It's been a rough week," he said placidly, "what with Zapata dying and all. But Raul's okay, you know. He knows how to take care of those what been helpin' him."

Bad Teeth pulled Olivia upright, one hand curled around her throat, pulling her against him. "He knows me and my brother are the best he's got," he hissed in her ear.

Tattoos smiled, showing teeth almost as bad as his brother's. "So we're gettin' a reward, like, for good behavior."

"Yeah," breathed Bad Teeth. He started to pull Olivia backward toward the gate. "The three of us, we gonna have a real good night."

* * *

><p>Inside Zapata's small room, Raul pushed Alex down to sit on the bed. She did not resist him. She could plainly see the gun he carried and remembered all too clearly that, just a few days before, she had seen him shoot someone to death in cold blood.<p>

Raul sat in the desk chair and leaned back, watching Alex. He placed his gun on the table – out of his hands but easily within reach.

"Rafael said that you were well behaved, but I have to admit I was expecting a little bit of a fight today," he commented. When Alex said nothing, he prodded further. "Why is that?"

Alex nodded toward the desk. "You have the gun."

Raul laughed. He unlocked a drawer and slid the gun in. He stood up and pushed the drawer closed; it clicked as it automatically relocked. He positioned himself in front of Alex. "And now?"

Alex didn't reply. Raul moved closer. Alex was perched tensely on the edge of the bed, her fists gripping the blanket on either side of her. Raul tried to nudge her knees apart but, to his surprise, she resisted. "You don't have to do this," she said.

"Oh?"

Alex looked up at him. "It was Zapata who kidnapped us - _You_ haven't done anything! If you let us go, you won't be held responsible." When he didn't immediately shut her down, she rushed on. "All we want is to go home. We won't say anything. If you just let us go –" His thick hand curled around the base of her neck and she froze.

"I make a point not to be as unnecessarily cruel as Rafael was sometimes," he said evenly. "But do _not_ mistake that for kindness or stupidity." He climbed onto the bed, straddling Alex and bearing his weight down, pushing her back onto the mattress. "You may not have seen much, but Rafael had the great idea of giving your friend to his captains as a reward – which means that she could identify them to the police. Depending on how much she's talked to you, you probably could too. No, neither of you are ever going to leave here." He removed his hand from her throat and sat back on his heels.

"But," he said, "life is better than no life, I'd think. As long as you behave yourselves and don't give me any trouble, I don't see why I shouldn't keep you around." He pulled his shirt off over his head, uncovering tight muscles and rippling abs. Alex knew that she'd never be able to fight him even if she tried. She closed her eyes. Raul stood and unzipped his pants. "I'm not Zapata," he said. "I know how he could be with women. You don't have to worry about that kind of thing with me." He kicked off his shoes and dropped his pants.

"Go ahead and take your clothes off," he said as if just realizing that she was still dressed. Alex did not open her eyes, but she did obey, working her shirt off without even sitting up from where Raul had pushed her.

"I mean, I've got a wife and four kids at home," Raul continued. "I've got a wife to take care of the house and the kids and I've got a girlfriend for appearances when I want her. And now I've got you too." He looked down at Alex. Her eyes were tightly shut and she was biting her lower lip. She was topless but had made no effort to take off her pants; her arms were crossed over her chest in an attempt to cover herself. Raul reached down, undid her pants, and tugged them down her legs. He threw them aside.

"So I guess I'm saying that the last thing I need is another woman making trouble for me. Wives nag and girlfriends are always begging for expensive gifts and shit." He reached for her wrists and gently pulled her arms down to her sides, uncovering her petite breasts. "So here's what I want from you: when I come here, which probably won't be all that often, I want you to make me happy. No fighting me, no bitching about anything, no more of this 'just let us go' crap." He lay down on the bed beside her. "You keep me happy, and maybe we can make things a little more comfortable for you and Benson. Deal?"

He shook her by the shoulder, clearly expecting a response. Alex opened her eyes and narrowed her gaze at him. "Fine," she said.

Raul lay back. "Good." He reached over and tugged on Alex's arm, pulling her over on top of him. He took hold of her hips and held her in place as he rubbed against her.

Alex felt cold and sick to her stomach. Zapata had played his own cruel games, but this was a different kind of torture. By placing her on top, Raul was forcing her to participate in her own rape. Alex winced in pain as he pushed inside her. She braced her hands on his wide chest for balance as his hands on her hips guided her to rock against him. She bit nervously on her lower lip and stared vacantly into a corner of the room, trying to separate herself as much as possible from what was happening.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Another chapter, finally! I hope you all enjoy! I should have another chapter of Revenge up by tomorrow night (If I don't, you have permission to yell at me) and will hopefully get another update on both of them before school starts back up.

Please **Review**!


	20. Chapter 20

He handcuffed one of Alex's wrists to the headboard. He curled up behind her, spooning her, and fell asleep quickly. Alex barely slept at all that night.

She did manage to fall asleep eventually, but woke only a few short hours later to the feel of Raul's morning wood pressed up against her. She shifted, rolling away, but he looped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. "'Morning, baby," he mumbled, still half asleep. Alex bit her lip and said nothing. His fingertips trailed lightly up and down her bare thigh.

His mouth was pressed against the nape of her neck; Alex shivered and pulled away. "I thought Zapata had taught you your place. Raul's hand moved to cup her between her legs. Alex tried to push him away with her one free hand; there was a clinking sound as her other hand jerked against the handcuffs.

"Please," Alex whispered. "Don't.

"Shhh," he soothed, "I'm not gonna hurt you." He rolled over, holding himself above her on his elbows. He kicked away the sheets that tangled around their legs. "Just do what I say, and I'll make it good for you."

"I don't want –" Alex's protests were silenced as his lips crashed down over hers. His kiss was gentle, but unrelenting. Alex shrank away, but there was nowhere to go. She was trapped between the mattress beneath her and his questing lips above her.

**November 19, 2003**

When Alex returned to their room later that morning, Olivia was curled up in bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin. Her hair was still wet from the shower and she stared without seeing. Alex got in the shower without saying anything. After she had finished showering, Olivia still had not moved.

Alex crawled in the bed and sat with her back against the wall, her legs curled up to her chest. "You okay?" she asked quietly.

Olivia shook her head. "How are you?"

Alex shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it."

Olivia rolled over to face Alex. "Did he hurt you?"

"No."

Olivia pushed herself slowly to an upright position. She was still healing from the beating she had received on the day Zapata had died, and Alex could see several new bruises that had not been there the night before.

"What happened to you?" Alex asked, eyeing the deep bruises on Olivia's arms.

Olivia pulled the blanket around her self-consciously. "I don't want to talk about it."

Alex nodded. There was really nothing else to say.

* * *

><p><strong>November 23, 2003<strong>

Elliot reached for his gun when he heard the knock at the door. The marshal assigned to look after him had cautioned him against carrying his standard Glock – it stood out too much as a police weapon. So instead Elliot had decided to go with a Beretta. It was a reliable gun, but the feel of it in his hand was still a little off.

He thumbed the safety and rested his index finger along the barrel. "Who is it?"

"Elliot?"

Elliot felt his heart jump in his throat. For over a month now, his name had been Jonathan. If someone was calling him by his real name, it meant his identity had been compromised. He slipped his finger to the trigger. Whatever was going on, he would not be caught unawares. He opened the door.

"Captain Cragen?" Elliot was shocked. "What happened? Did something happen to Kathy and the kids? Have you found Liv and Alex?"

"Your family is fine, Elliot."

One of the marshals flanking Cragen interrupted, "Let's take this conversation inside."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Elliot waved them through the doorway into his small apartment. Cragen and the two marshals sat on the futon; Elliot leaned against the wall, placing his gun on the coffee table. "So what's going on?"

"Zapata is dead," Cragen said shortly. "I've been talking with the marshals for the last few days and they agree that the threat against you is likely over. You can come home."

"What about Olivia and Alex? Are they safe?"

Cragen shook his head. "We still haven't found them."

Elliot slid down the wall. "There's been no word? Nothing at all?"

"No. We're hoping that Zapata's death will give us an excuse to poke around some more. Maybe something will turn up."

"How's Kathy doing? And the kids?"

"They're doing fine," Cragen reassured. "I don't think Kathy ever told the kids that you were in WPP, though. Last time I talked to her, she was still pretty tore up about lying to them about it."

Elliot cradled his head in his hands. "How soon can I go home?"

Cragen glanced at the marshals. "We have a ticket booked for you to fly back with us on the red-eye tonight, if you want."

_Tomorrow morning_, Elliot thought. _I can see my family again tomorrow morning._

**November 24, 2003**

Their plane landed at LaGuardia just after 8am, two days before Thanksgiving. Elliot had not slept a minute the entire night. Where he should have felt immeasurable joy, he was anxious and worried. _What if they're wrong? What if this isn't safe yet? What if by coming home, I'm just bringing danger to my family?_ He knew that he would not feel safe until he was at home again, with his wife and children in his arms.

_No…_ he thought uneasily. _It'll only be truly safe again when Liv and Alex are back and every one of those bastards are dead or in prison_. But seeing his family would be a good start down that road back to life.

Cragen drove him to the front of his house in Queens – the house he had shared with Kathy for most of their married life. Elliot stepped out of the car. The cold November wind bit into him and there was a layer of frost over the weeds that crept up through the cracks in the walkway. Kathy had been bugging him for the better part of a year to fix it – they'd bought Dickie a skateboard for his birthday and the uneven pavement had caused dozens of falls and scrapes.

The kids were already at school. Elliot could see the footprints leading out of the house and toward the metro station. He walked up the steps and paused, realizing something was missing. He didn't have any keys. Feeling a little sheepish, he rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, he heard Kathy's footsteps approaching. She stopped on the other side of the door.

"Kathy?" Elliot called through the door. His voice caught. "Kath, it's me. I'm home."

The door swung open slowly. "Elliot?" she whispered. Elliot barely had time to notice the can of mace and phone in her hand before she dropped them on the floor with a clatter and threw herself into his arms.

Elliot wrapped his arms around her as they kissed. They fumbled four-footed through the doorway, never breaking their kiss as they shuffled and Elliot kicked the door closed behind them.

"You're home!" Kathy breathed. "You're safe? Everything's okay?"

"Zapata is dead," Elliot said shortly. "Witsec said I could come home. You're alright? The kids are alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine." Kathy pulled back, wiping tears off her cheeks. "I never told them you were in witness protection. Elliot, they all think you're dead. How are we going to explain…?"

"They'll understand," Elliot said, bending to pick Kathy's phone up off the floor. She had already pressed 9 and 1 before answering the door. He held it up, his eyes meeting Kathy's. He didn't have to say anything.

Kathy wrapped her arms across her chest. "Nothing's happened or anything… I've just… I've been scared. I regretted us not going with you since you left. Every time I opened the door, I was afraid that it would be someone… someone from that gang, or cartel or whatever it is. Nobody would talk about the case you and Olivia had been working on, so I've been walking around terrified and didn't even know who to be scared of!"

"Kathy, why didn't you call witness protection? They would've brought you in."

"I just couldn't. Elliot, you have no idea what it's been like. It was hell at first and then the kids started back at school and I just couldn't turn everything upside down again. And the Marshal with witness protection said the same thing you'd said – that our disappearing would just raise red flags for anyone looking for you. So… I didn't say anything."

"How are they? Really?" Elliot's voice broke, trying to imagine what this meant for his children. First they were told that their father was dead – they went to the funeral, grieved, and went back to school. And now they'd come home from school and he'd be here to greet them.

Kathy sighed and leaned against the wall. "It's been rough. Maureen tries to be strong. She wants to take care of me, take care of everyone. Kathleen is barely speaking to any of us. She's angry and I've caught her sneaking beers a couple times. I talked her into seeing the school counselor, but she only went once. He said that this is all part of normal grieving and that it's a 'process.'" She practically sneered that last part. "And the twins…? I don't know. Dickie is scared of the dark again and cries every time there are gunshots or anything on TV. Lizzie is happy all day and wets the bed at night and I can't get either of them to talk to me or a counselor or anybody."

"I'm sorry," Elliot reached for her and Kathy melted into his arms. "Kathy, I'm so sorry that all this happened. We're gonna get through this. I know we are. We'll tell them what happened and… and they'll understand. They'll know that we were just trying to keep them safe."

* * *

><p>Later that morning, Elliot and Kathy lay naked in bed. His body was warm and solid against hers and Kathy ran her fingers down his arms, still marveling at being together again. Elliot brushed his lips over her collarbone. His breath was hot and moist against her skin and Kathy laughed, arching against him. Elliot smirked, and persisted, kissing, sucking, and blowing against her skin as she wriggled. He dipped his head to her breast she stilled with a gasp, "<em>Oohh<em>!" Then he eased his way farther down, leaving a wet trail of kisses down her body. Kathy shivered and then, as he reached his goal, she ran her fingers through his hair and drew him toward her.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world," Elliot said when they were done. He lay on his stomach, his chin resting on his crossed forearms and watched as Kathy gasped in deep, shuddering gulps of air. "I love you."

Kathy reached for him, but in her post-orgasmic haze, the loving caress she'd intended ended up as an awkward flop, her limbs too heavy to control. They both laughed and Elliot leaned over to kiss her. Kathy smiled, tasting herself on his lips. "You're just saying that 'cause you missed the sex."

"Oh, well, that too," he laughed. Kathy smiled and pulled him to her for another kiss.

"I love you too," she managed to get the words out between kisses. "Promise me that this will never happen again – I can't live without you. I don't ever want to have to tell our children again that you are dead."

"Well, statistically, American women have a longer lifespan than men, so about 30 or 40 years from now…"

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "You know what I mean."

"I have no intention of dying anytime soon, I promise you." His eyes captured hers and when he spoke again, his tone was dead serious. "I can't live without you either," he said. "Being there… so far away from you, from our family… was hell on earth, Kathy. Any life for me that doesn't include you is not worth living."

* * *

><p><strong>November 26, 2003<strong>

Olivia woke up shivering in the wee hours of the morning and reached behind her for the pile of blankets that Alex had wrapped around her. The blonde grumbled in protest as she felt the comforting weight leave her and she rolled, following the heat of the blankets to throw her arm over Olivia. Olivia glanced through the dark room toward the bluish glow of the television screen. The quiet hum of voices on the morning news said that it was 5am and New York City was waking up and getting ready for the Macy's parade. "Happy Thanksgiving, Alex," Olivia whispered. "We're alive and Zapata's dead. I guess that's something." It was too early to get up, so she pulled the covers up past her shoulders and shifted to find a more comfortable position, and closed her eyes.

Alex and Olivia both work up suddenly a few hours later when they heard the sound of a chain sliding over metal. Their reaction was Pavlovian by now – they jolted upright, their hearts pounding in their chests. Raul nudged a heavy box through the gate with one foot and then clicked the lock back in place. "Some books," he said in response to their unasked questions." He looked at Alex, not sparing a glance for Olivia. "I know what it's like being locked up. I did a couple years in the joint when I was a kid and the worst part was the fucking _boredom_."

Alex swallowed and Olivia saw her hands tighten into fists, clutching the blanket. "Thank you," she whispered.

Raul grinned. He was not an unattractive man, and when he smiled it was hard not to see why women might flock to him. "You can thank me later," he said with a smirk. "It is Thanksgiving after all." He winked at her and walked away.

"Alex?" Olivia spoke cautiously. Alex was practically quivering, though Olivia couldn't tell if it was with rage or something else. "You want to talk?"

She shook her head. Olivia frowned. It had been a more than a week since Zapata had died and Raul took over. Alex had gone with Raul several times, and, every time, she grew more distant, more silent. With Zapata, Alex had always come home with bruises and welts, but she and Olivia had usually been able to turn to each other about anything that happened. Maybe not immediately, maybe after a few days, but they were always there for each other. Now, Alex went with Raul when he came for her and she returned later – or even the next morning – physically unharmed and completely withdrawn. Nothing Olivia said could draw her out.

"I'm fine," Alex croaked, seeing Olivia's expression. "Don't worry."

"Right," the detective's tone made it clear that "not worrying" was not an option. But Alex's closed-off face did not allow any room for discussion. "So… want to watch the parade?"

Alex shook her head and got out of bed. The floor was cold under her feet and she added "having socks" to her mental list of things to be thankful for. It was a short list, but it was something. "A month and a half we've had nothing to do but pace around and watch TV. I want to read a book." She hefted the box of box and carried it over to deposit it on the bed at Olivia's feet.

They were all clearly second-hand, worn and battered. Most of them had bright yellow stickers saying "USED" and others sported red circles that announced "Reduced price!" There were some trashy romance novels, a few John Grisham books, and some historical fiction that Alex mentally catalogued as just on the edge of "trashy romance," but with a little more research put into them.

Olivia dug out one of the Grisham books, _A Time to Kill_, and held it out to Alex. "Book with lawyer-ish stuff for you?" she suggested.

Alex wrinkled her nose. "I loved Grisham in college, but once I started law school, I just couldn't deal with reading any lawyer novels any more. Besides," she said, nodding at the old book with disdain, "I don't think a book about a little girl being brutally raped is what either of us needs right now."

Olivia looked at the book in her hand as if it had suddenly turned into a giant cockroach. She tossed it aside. "Alright then… finding something else…" Eventually, she settled on Philippa Gregory's _The Other Boleyn Girl_ and Alex picked up _Outlander_ by Diana Gabaldon. Alex settled in bed with a pillow propped up against the wall behind her. Olivia sprawled out on her back, using Alex's leg as a headrest. For the rest of the morning, there was not a sound in the room save the quiet rustle of pages turning.

When Raul returned just after noon, Alex stiffened. She closed her eyes in resignation when she saw him approach the gate. "_I don't want to go_," she whispered, her hand closing on Olivia's with a surprisingly tight grip. Olivia squeezed back and glanced at Raul. He had a gun holstered at his hip.

"Alex," he called, his voice slurred. "C'm 'ere, babe. I got somethin' for you." He gestured lewdly.

"He's drunk, Alex," Olivia whispered. "We can try…"

"And what good will that do?" Alex snapped. "Even assuming one of us doesn't get _shot_ in the process, there is no way we're getting past his people upstairs. And then one or both of us definitely will get shot. No," she said, "today is no different from any other day. He calls and I do what he says." Her voice dripped with self-loathing and disdain. Olivia was taken aback by her tone.

Alex put her book aside and got out of bed. "See ya later." As she walked across the room toward Raul, she thought through her Thanksgiving list: _We're alive. Olivia is safe and we're together. Hot showers. Socks. And now books._ "Happy Thanksgiving," she whispered to herself just before reaching the gate.

When Alex returned a few hours later, she didn't say anything to Olivia, but went straight to the shower. "Alex," Olivia called, trying to catch her attention. Alex ignored her and waited until the water was scalding hot before stepping in. "Alex, we need to talk."

Alex gasped as the water hit her. The skin on her stomach instantly turned a brilliant boiled-lobster-red and she brought her hands up under her chin, covering her breasts as she eased into the stream of water. "Not now," she said, through gritted teeth.

"After you're out of the shower then." Olivia was determined not to let Alex keep shutting her out.

"Fine," Alex said, resigned

Forty minutes later, Olivia was convinced that Alex was drawing out the shower just to avoid talking to her.

"Hey."

Alex looked up. She was sitting on the floor of the shower, her head on her knees, just letting the water flow over her. "Liv, I really don't want to talk about this." If it weren't for her red, swollen eyes, the water running down her face might have hidden that she had been crying.

"I know you don't," Olivia said gently.

"I thought that… with him dead… things would get better." It was a mark of how much Alex had feared and hated Rafael Zapata that even after his death she couldn't say his name. "But it's all… it's…" she lowered her head and let the water rushing over her cover the fresh wave of tears.

"It's all just the same?" Olivia's heart sank. It hurt her to see Alex like this.

Alex started to nod, but then stopped. "Raul's not like him. He hurt me just to prove that he could. Raul actually tries _not_ to hurt me, if you'd believe it…"

She was quiet for a minute and Olivia didn't say anything, waiting for Alex to go ahead whenever she was ready. "Raul wants someone to play along. He wants me to like it or at least pretend to. He doesn't just want to rape me; he wants me to have sex with him. And… and that makes it so much worse."

Olivia hesitated. "Why go along with it then?"

Alex pulled herself upright and faced Olivia. She shrugged, not meeting her friend's eyes. "It's not like there's any other choice." She turned off the water. "Pass me the towel, will you?"

It was as clear a "conversation is over" signal as any, and Olivia knew better than to press her on it. Alex dried off, got dressed, and picked up her book off the bed. She opened it, but her eyes scanned the words without seeing.

There were other choices. They both knew there were. They had both seen cases where victims had gone along with their captors, playing the game to protect themselves as best as possible. They had seen victims who resisted for years, never giving in. They'd seen victims who had given up, become completely apathetic to both the pain of captivity and the hope of freedom. And they'd seen victims who died, either because they were desperate enough to take their own lives, or because they fought and kept fighting no matter what.

The only reason Alex went along with Raul was because he had accepted the deal his predecessor had rejected: she would do what he wanted – whatever he wanted – if it meant that Olivia would be safe. That was the bargain they had struck after that first night. He had kept his end, so far at least, and so she would continue to hold up hers.

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimers: <strong>I don't own or profit from any books written by Grisham, Gregory, or Gabaldon. They are all fantastic authors, though, and if you haven't read any of their books, get your butt off fanfiction and go to the library. Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series actually outranks Harry Potter for the first place on my "favorite series of all time" list.

**Author's apology: **I'm going to go ahead and duck any projectiles directed my way. I'm sorry for going 8months without updating anything. I've been having a fun (read: busy as all get out) time in the real world - organizing women's rights marches and working with a bazillian different feminist and LGBT groups, starting a full-time career job, working on my masters program, getting engaged, getting a research grant, etc. But my research grant is finishing up, so now my life is "slowing down" to just masters program and full-time job. That leaves (I hope) time to get back to writing. I'm really really sorry. I love this story (there are a couple scenes coming up that I'm really looking forward to) and I'm NOT going to abandon it, no matter how long it might take me between updates. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die and all that jazz.


	21. Chapter 21

Elliot's first few days at home were stressful on all of them. There were lots of tears, lots of slamming doors, and lots of hugging. Maureen and Kathleen were both furious with him for leaving and with Kathy for keeping the truth from them. Dickie and Lizzie were not angry so much as horribly confused. It was hard to explain to them what had happened and why.

Thanksgiving was a subdued affair, even though they had a lot to be thankful for. Kathy called her parents and canceled the plans for her and the kids to drive up and visit them; when she explained that Elliot had come home, the announcement was met with much the same mixture of anger and relief that the kids had displayed.

_It is hard_, Elliot decided, _to come back from the dead. _

Fortunately, Elliot himself did not have to deal with the bureaucracy of returning from the dead. One of the marshals that had been assigned to his case took care of all of that and all Elliot had to do was sign the paperwork. That was about the only easy thing about his homecoming.

**November 30, 2003**

On the Sunday after Thanksgiving, Elliot called Cragen. He had not talked to the SVU captain since their conversations on the trip from Wisconsin. The temptation to march into the precinct and demand to know everything that was being done to find Olivia and Alex was only tempered by his need to spend time with his family and the knowledge that Cragen had already told him everything they knew about where to find his partner.

When he finally did pick up the phone, though, he felt guilty that it had taken him so long. His family was here and he was glad – joyful beyond words – to see them. But now he had spent six days, six wonderful days, relaxing with his family while Olivia was trapped in God-only-knows what kind of hell. He had to get back to work. He was back in New York. He was determined to find her.

"Elliot," Cragen sounded surprised to hear from him.

"Captain, I want to come back. You still have a space for me?" Elliot was sure that he did. Cragen had said as much on the plane on the way back. _"I've been through three detectives since you and Olivia disappeared. Just say the word when you're ready and your desk is still there."_

"Of course. You don't want some more time off with your family?"

Elliot didn't answer immediately and, when he did, his voice was low and choked. "I have to find her. Every day that I'm not looking is another day that she's…"

"I know." Cragen sighed. "Tomorrow morning, detective. We've got some paperwork to deal with if I want to hire a dead man as an active detective, so get there early."

"Right." Elliot smiled. "Munch and Fin both gonna be there?" He knew that his coworkers had heard about his return, but he hadn't gone to visit them yet.

"Munch is catching tomorrow, but Fin is going to be in court most of the day. You'll have to meet our new ADA tomorrow; McCoy assigned us someone to replace Alex, to work specifically with SVU cases."

"Oh?" Elliot felt like someone had punched him in the gut. It was hard to think about someone else taking Olivia's job, some new lawyer taking Alex's. Just the idea of it made it seem like everyone was just moving on, just going to forget what had happened – what was happening, because Elliot refused to think that they were dead – to their friends and colleagues.

"Casey Novak. You'll like her," Cragen said, "She's good with the victims and tough as nails in court."

"Sure." Elliot heard footsteps approaching; Kathy was coming up the stairs toward their bedroom. "Hey, Cap'n, I gotta run. I'll be there in the morning."

He hung up the phone just before Kathy walked in. "Who was that?" she asked, sauntering over to wrap her arms around him.

"Nothing," Elliot said, turning to kiss her.

Kathy eyed him, but didn't question him further. "Elliot…" she guided him to sit on the bed and Elliot could tell by her tone that whatever she wanted to talk about, it was serious. "I've been thinking about…" she gestured, "_everything_. What we're going to do now, where we are as a family, and…" She looked down at her hands. "I want to leave New York."

"What?" Whatever Elliot might have been expecting, this wasn't it.

"It's… everybody here, all our friends, everybody at your work, my work, the kids' schools – they all thought you were dead. And now how do we explain what's happened? How do we explain your disappearance without saying anything specific about why you were in witness protection? Maybe it would be better to get a fresh start, you know? We can just pick up and go."

"Kathy…" Elliot felt helpless. She was right, in part. It might be easier on their family to go somewhere new, to start over again as a family. It would help free them from any lingering fear that someone loyal to Zapata might still have a grudge. "Kathy, I can't. I have to go back to work. I have to help them find Liv and Alex."

"No," she said firmly, "no, you don't. There are other cops looking for them, other detectives on the case. It doesn't have to be you. Elliot, I've already told our family once that you died. I'm not doing that again. I'm not. And if you go back to the NYPD, what's going to happen? There will always be another cartel, another shooting, another person with a gun and a grudge, another threat. And I can't sit here day after day waiting to find out that you've been shot again." He started to reply, but she talked over him, rushing ahead. "We can go anywhere. I don't care where we go. But let's leave the city. Let's go somewhere we can be safe, where we don't flinch every time there's a knock on the door – don't think I haven't seen that! Please, Elliot, this is something we should at least think about."

"Kathy, I can't leave. I already talked to Cragen; on the plane back from Wisconsin I told him I'd be coming back to SVU as soon as I could."

"You already told him you'd be coming back? Without talking about it with me?" She sounded wounded and Elliot felt a brief pang of guilt.

"I didn't think I needed to – This is… this is something that I _have_ to do, Kathy." He'd assumed that it would be obvious that as soon as he was back in New York, he'd be back at work. He hadn't thought it was something that needed to be discussed. "I honestly had never considered that I wouldn't go back to the force if I got the chance to come home again. I can't leave, Kath. You know in the Marines they say, 'leave no man behind'? It's the same thing here. I won't run while my partner's in danger."

"You left before, when you went into WitSec. How is this any different?"

Elliot reached up to stroke her cheek. "I went into WitSec to protect you, because our family would have been in danger otherwise. Now… now I have to find her."

"Them."

"Hunh?"

"Them, you have to find both of them, right? Alex Cabot and Olivia."

"Yeah. Right."

* * *

><p>Time crept on, slowly. Olivia and Alex quickly read through most of their books, and then reread them. The 30-Days-of-Christmas movie marathons started just after Thanksgiving and Alex and Olivia spent days lounging around, watching Rudolph and wishing for even a glimpse of the sky or sun or snow. It had been more than two weeks since Zapata's death and, for the first time since they were taken captive in mid-October, all of their bruises had faded away and both of them were able to move easily without pain. Now that they were removed from under the constant threat of Zapata's violent whims, their captivity seemed much more bearable.<p>

Raul had kept his word that Olivia would not be hurt, and so Alex kept her word to him. He was not like Zapata, and only came for Alex a couple times a week. For a few short hours at a time, she did what he wanted; she submitted to him, pretended to enjoy the things he wanted her to do, and pretended that they were making love and not that he was raping her. And every time she returned to her and Olivia's cell – a room that felt increasingly home-like as more and more time separated them from their past and their memories of freedom – she showered, said nothing about it to Olivia, and tried to forget what had happened.

* * *

><p><strong>December 6, 2003<strong>

After a week back at work, Elliot was no closer to finding Olivia and Alex than they had been before he came back. He slammed the door to his locker as he packed up to go home. Somehow, he'd had it in his head that he'd get back to the city and suddenly be able to find that one clue, that one piece of evidence that everybody else had missed, that could lead him to them. Such was not the case.

"You all right, man?"

Elliot spared a glance at his new "partner;" the word tasted foul in his mouth. The only partner he wanted was Olivia Benson, not this kid. Detective James Bynum had only passed his exam last year; SVU was his first assignment as a full detective. Elliot couldn't figure out why on earth the higher-ups thought it was a good idea to assign rookies to work with Special Victims… except that precious few of the more experienced detectives ever wanted to work in the sex squad. So they were stuck with this kid now, and it was Elliot's job to make him into a half-decent detective.

"Fine," Elliot grunted, turning to pick up his jacket off his chair. It was well below freezing out and a heavy snowstorm was headed for the city that night. "See you tomorrow, Jim." Elliot headed down the hall and stared at the floor once inside the elevator. _There has to be something. There's something I'm missing, something that will help us find her._

When the elevator door opened, Bynum was standing in front of it, panting. The door to the stairwell hung open behind him. "He- y, Ell- iot," he wheezed. "Glad- I ca-caught you."

Elliot glanced at his watch. He'd been trying to get home earlier, to spend more time with his family, but it was already an hour past when he'd told Kathy he'd be home and his phone had been buzzing quietly in his pocket for a while now. "What is it?" he asked.

Bynum had caught his breath now and was standing straighter. "A detective from homicide was here earlier, when you were out getting lunch with Munch. Name was Hertz, said you'd left a message for him last week. I completely forgot to tell you about it, I'm sorry."

Elliot swore under his breath and stormed back into the precinct. Bynum followed him back into the elevator. "Sorry, Elliot, he didn't say what case it was about, so I thought it was just a personal call."

"No." Elliot said shortly. One of the first things he'd done when he got back to work was to call the detectives over at Major Case squad who were working Olivia and Alex's disappearance, the detective on Zapata's murder, and the DEA agents Alex had been talking to during the Zapata case. One of the Major Case detectives had interviewed him to see if he'd remembered anything from that night, but besides that one interaction, he hadn't been able to get a call back from anyone. Nobody wanted to tell a fellow cop that there was nothing they could do to find a missing detective. "He's the one investigating the murder of Rafael Zapata."

Bynum wracked through his brain; he knew the name was familiar, but he couldn't place it. In the short few months since he'd started at SVU, he had worked hundreds of cases and couldn't remember all the names. "Who's Zapata?"

The look Elliot gave him could have melted steel. "Cesar Veléz is a Columbian druglord – he stays in Columbia to avoid the charges against him for his cartel's crimes in the US. Zapata was the head of his US operations. He's also the bastard who _allegedly_," Elliot said with a sneer, "had me shot and abducted my partner and our ADA. I assume you've heard about that case?" One of the most frustrating things impeding the investigation into Olivia and Alex's disappearance was the lack of evidence tying Zapata to that night's events.

The younger detective looked abashed. "Yeah, I heard about it. So you think finding his killer will mean finding Benson and Cabot?"

"It's the best lead we've got so far."

When they got back to the squad room, Elliot called Hertz immediately. When the other detective picked up, Elliot skipped any preliminaries: "What have you found?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." He sounded frustrated. "My captain thinks it's time to shelve it. We've got a dozen other open cases and this one has no prints, no forensics, no witnesses, nothing to go on."

"No," Elliot ground out in disbelief.

"I know, I know. If this was just a simple hit on a scumbag drug dealer, I'd be more than happy to drop it. But not if it's connected to your people going missing."

"You tell your captain that? He gonna let you keep on it?"

Elliot could practically hear the homicide cop shaking his head. "He says that Major Case is supposed to be finding Cabot and Benson and that I should just give them access to whatever I've found and move on."

"You talk to the guys at Major Case about this?"

"Yeah, and they've already boxed the case, pending new evidence."

"_WHAT?I_" Elliot felt a wave of rage so fierce that his vision blurred for a moment. "You mean that _nobody_ is actually looking for them?"

"I still am. And you are. Major Case still has it listed as open; they're just not assigning a high priority to a nearly two-month old case with virtually no evidence. And God only knows what the DEA is doing – they haven't exactly been forthcoming with what or who they're investigating – but I'll bet they have people covering Veléz's operations still, and finding Benson and Cabot would go a long way to bringing the cartel down.

"Jesus…" Elliot wasn't sure if the single word that slipped past his lips was a prayer or an expletive.

"We're going to keep working it, Detective. There's just not a whole hell of a lot to go on."

* * *

><p><strong>December 7, 2003<strong>

The news broadcasts had been warning of the coming snowstorm for days, but Olivia and Alex both experienced the same shudder of terror when the power when out and they were plunged into complete darkness. There was no light and they fumbled in the dark, straining to see, to find some small hint of light.

Even worse than the darkness was the ominous silence as the clunky, industrial-grade heat/air conditioning system sputtered to a halt. Olivia gave an involuntary shiver; the weather channel had predicted temperatures well below freezing for the next several days.

"Liv?" Alex's voice sounded high and strained. The totality of the darkness was unnerving.

"I'm over here," Olivia replied. She reached out for the wall and followed it in the direction of Alex's voice.

It did not take long for the temperature to start dropping. Every scrap of cloth they had, from clothes to towels, they piled on top of the blankets on the bed. Before long, they were both curled up under the covers. The only sound was their own breathing. There was no way to keep track of time; the darkness, the silence, and the increasing cold were terrifying and oppressive.

Olivia had been a cop a long time; every summer there were cases of heat stroke and every winter there were cases of hypothermia. She tried to remember the temperature danger-zones. Sustained temperatures of about 100 to 105 or higher could lead to heat stroke. And sustained exposure to low temperatures… Olivia frowned. She couldn't remember exactly… somewhere around 55 to 60 degrees could lead to hypothermia. She wondered how cold it was now. Her feet were icy and her hands were clamped between her knees for warmth. From the soft chattering of teeth behind her, she could tell that Alex was also struggling with the cold. How long had it been since the power went out? Three hours? Maybe four? It felt like an eternity.

"Alex? You ok?"

"'s so cold," she whispered. "C'mere." She reached out and pulled Olivia to her.

Olivia rolled over and wrapped her arms around Alex. In the darkness, the blonde snuggled up to her and wiggled her feet against Olivia's. Olivia nearly recoiled at how icy Alex's body was. Alex had always been thin and both of them had lost weight in the last month or two. The lack of body fat meant that Alex was losing heat – fast.

"Have to conserve body heat…" Alex mumbled.

"Yeah, that's why we're cuddling," Olivia said with a wry smile Alex couldn't see.

"You haven't been watching those survivor-type tv shows with me," Alex said, and the smile was evident in her voice. With nothing else to do, both of them had watched more television in the last two months than they had in years of normal life. But both of them had certain shows they preferred and certain shows they didn't ever pay attention to. Alex was a fan of all the wilderness shows, and Olivia was a sucker for Lifetime channel soaps. "Have to step up the cuddling." She pulled back and Olivia could feel her slipping her pants down.

"You sure about this?" Olivia asked.

Alex finished taking off her pants and started working her shirt up over her head. "Best way to stay warm. You ok with it?"

"Yeah." Soon they were both stripped down to their underwear and clung to each other, quickly warming as they pressed together.

Not long afterward, Olivia felt Alex's breathing slow into a long, slow, steady rhythm. "Hey," she said with a nudge, "wake up." Alex didn't respond at first and Olivia shook her by the shoulder, "Alex, wake up!"

Alex bolted upright, trembling. The sudden upheaval displaced their blankets onto the ground and Olivia bit her lip to keep from cursing as their small pocket of warmth vanished. "It's ok, Alex. It's just me."

"What? What is it?" Alex crossed her arms across her bare chest and rubbed her arms vigorously to ward off the sudden cold. Olivia leaned over to pull the blankets back up onto the bed.

"Can't go to sleep," Olivia cautioned as they snuggled back under the covers. "Not when it's this cold." The thought that one of them might fall asleep and not wake up gripped her heart in terror.

Alex propped up one of the pillows to keep an airway open and pulled the blankets up over their heads. "Alright."

They fell back into a comfortable silence, holding each other in the cold and the dark. Whenever one started to drift off to sleep, the other would quickly shake her awake.

Time slowed, or maybe stopped altogether. The room outside their nest of blankets was cold – icy cold – but Alex and Olivia managed to stay warm, awake, and alive.

Hours later, Alex broke the silence. "Maybe talking will help us stay awake." She sounded a little nervous and Olivia, who'd been about to fall asleep, pulled herself awake.

"Ok, sure." Olivia yawned. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Liv, if I…" Alex had spent the last few hours in the dark trying to work up the courage to bring this up. "If I tell you something, will you promise not to get too upset about it?"

"Sure," Olivia said hesitantly. "Why?"

"Because I know you're not going to like it. Just promise me."

Olivia sighed. "Alex, whatever you're going to say, just say it."

"I, um… I made a deal with Raul. He won't let anyone hurt you as long as I do what he wants." Olivia stiffened in her arms and Alex rushed on, "I'm not going to stop," she stated firmly. "As long as he keeps his end of the bargain…. I just… I just thought you should know about it." The fact that she couldn't see Olivia's reaction made this a little easier. She could imagine the reactions that would be flashing across the detective's face right now, but she didn't have to see them.

"_Why?_" The question slipped out in a strangled whisper.

"Because…" Alex stumbled. "Because he's going to get what he wants no matter what, but I can chose whether I'm going to manipulate that to protect you or not. And I think that keeping you safe is worth it, is worth anything."

On a hunch, Olivia reached up to brush Alex's face; there were tears running down her cheeks. "Not if it hurts you," she protested. "Alex, I've seen what this guy does to you. He might not beat you like Zapata did, but he hurts you in plenty of other ways. Every time you go with him… I just… I don't _know_ what's going on, but I know. And I see you come back here and you won't talk to me and you just have this lost look in your eyes and you cry when you think I'm asleep. So, _please_, Alex, don't keep doing this. Don't do this for me. It's not worth the cost to you, it's really not."

"And you think it would be better if I disobeyed him?" Alex retorted. "You think that _anything_ would be better? He's… Liv, we've both seen perps that… you don't even have to see what they've done, you just meet them and you _know_ that they're vicious bastards. That's… he's like that. He's never laid a hand on me, not yet, but I know that he would and I don't want that to happen." She fell silent.

"Maybe I'm a bit of a coward," Alex whispered. "I think I'd do what he wanted even if he didn't make this deal. He… I think he could be just as bad as," she swallowed, "Zapata, if I provoked him. And I'm scared and so I do what he wants, and if it keeps you safe, so much the better."

Olivia didn't reply. She didn't know what to say, how to respond. "You're not a coward," she finally said.

"Maybe not," Alex replied with a shrug. "Maybe I just love you and don't want anything to happen to you."

"And maybe I love you and don't want you getting hurt, and especially not for my sake."

"Yeah, but there's nothing you can do to stop what Raul wants to do to me, but there _is_ something I can do to stop him from hurting you."

Olivia felt a stinging in her eyes and blinked. "That's true," she whispered helplessly. Alex was right. There wasn't a damned thing she could do to help either of them. She had spent her entire life protecting others, but here she was completely helpless to do anything.

"I'm… I'm doing what I think has to be done. For both of us."

"Alex…"

"It'll be fine. We'll get through this." Alex shifted to find a more comfortable position, peeling away from Olivia slightly in the process, and the cold hit their newly exposed skin. "Assuming, of course, that the heat comes back on before we freeze to death," she said with a grimace.

"Not funny," Olivia said. "The heat doesn't come back on soon and we might be in trouble, no matter how much we snuggle." The basement room that had been their home since October was poorly insulated and the temperature had been steadily dropping for hours now.

"It'll come back on," Alex said. "Usually they're pretty fast with getting power back online, especially in the winter."

"I hope so."

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><p><strong>Review!<strong>


	22. Chapter 22

**December 8, 2003**

"Damnit, you idiots! The power goes out and you just _forget_ these two are down here? Can't I trust you morons with anything?"

Olivia woke up to a loud, male voice and a bright flashlight beam scanning over the bed. She sat up slowly; her whole body was stiff with cold. She and Alex had both fallen asleep, despite their determination to stay awake. Raul was struggling to open the gate with the flashlight in one hand. "Alex, wake up," she said, nudging her sleeping partner. Alex stirred.

Raul quickly crossed over to the bed and shined the light directly at them. Alex's lips were blue with cold and she was lethargic, but her eyes were open and she was responsive. "Olivia… cold…."

Olivia scooped Alex up in her arms, rubbing her arms and back vigorously to try to increase blood-flow. "Alex, it's alright. It's okay." She glared at Raul; she could barely see him with the light shining in her face. "You going to let us freeze to death down here or did you bring a heater with you?" she snarled.

"There's a heater upstairs," he said shortly. "Get up." Raul watched as they two women got out of bed, both shivering violently. As soon as she stood up, Olivia felt dizzy and disoriented; her limbs sluggish and numb. Alex was worse off, though; her gaze was unfocused and she could barely stand on her own two feet. Alex hugged her arms around Olivia's waist and the brunette wrapped her arms under Alex's shoulders, supporting most of the other woman's weight.

_Upstairs!_ Olivia had not left their cell in more than two weeks and neither of them had left the basement since they had been brought here almost two months ago. Any other day, she would have seen this as a chance to plot their escape. But not now. Right now, all she cared about was getting herself and Alex in front of a heater.

"Give me your hands," said Raul. He pulled a pair of cuffs out of his pocket and reached for Olivia. Without waiting for a response, he pulled her toward him. He jerked her arms behind her back and closed the metal band around one wrist. Left alone, Alex wavered and stumbled back toward the bed.

"You idiot," Olivia burst, shoving him away from her. "Can't you see she's in trouble? Just get us to a heater and deal with whatever else later!"

His fist slammed into her jaw and Olivia, weakened by the cold, crumpled to the ground. "Don't," snarled Raul, "you _dare_ speak to me like that." He kicked her and Olivia groaned. Raul grabbed her and hauled her to her feet. But he didn't try to cuff her hands behind her back again. Instead, he closed the other side of the cuffs around Alex's wrist and jerked them forward. Alex stumbled, wide-eyed and confused. Olivia was shaking with cold and could not stop her teeth from chattering.

They staggered up the stairs; Raul kept the flashlight pointed ahead of him, leaving Olivia and Alex to fumble and trip in the dark. He unlocked the door at the top of the stairs and Olivia gripped Alex's hand tightly.

The stairs led up to a broad warehouse space, furnished only with rows of stainless steel tables. In one corner, there was a large, industrial-sized space heater connected to a roaring generator. Olivia could see the silhouette of three men in the glow of its warmth. Raul shoved them forward.

The heat stung Olivia, pricking at her like needles all over her body. A whimper escaped her lips as she sank to the floor a few feet from the heater. Alex curled up beside her, turning into Olivia for comfort. Raul went to a toolbox on the other side of the room and returned with a length of cable. He attached on end to the handcuffs and the other to a metal table. Olivia ignored him. She was focused only on the warmth coming from the heater. She scooted closer and Alex moved with her, drawing as close to the heater as they could stand. Olivia could feel the tiny muscle contractions that wracked Alex's body as she slowly warmed. The color returned to her face, but she still seemed barely lucid.

"Olivia?" she mumbled.

"Yeah, Alex, I'm here," Olivia reassured her.

"Where… where are we?"

Olivia lifted her head and looked around. The men she had noticed earlier were all staring at her and Alex; their faces slack with undisguised lust. Olivia remembered that she and Alex were both wearing only their underwear – it hadn't seemed important to grab clothes when Raul had come to take them out of their cell, but now she wished she had thought of it. "Somewhere warm," she answered. "How're you feeling?"

"It hurts," Alex replied, flexing her fingers.

"I know." Olivia pulled her closer, trying to hide both of them from the gazes of them men around them.

"Hey, Raul, how 'bout we have some fun?" one of the men slurred in Spanish. Olivia cringed.

"You fucktards nearly let them freeze down there, I don't think either of them wants to give you a "thank you" fuck over that."

"Who cares what they want? I wouldn't mind having a go at that cop bitch… cops have fucked me over often enough, it's time to return the favor."

Olivia felt her blood run cold and she clung even more tightly to Alex, glad that the attorney did not understand Spanish.

"Yeah," chimed in another voice, "and I heard that the lawyer is a sweet lay. Zapata said she could suck start a leaf blower with that mouth." There was more ribald laughter.

Raul glanced down. The two women made quite a sight together, naked and illuminated by the soft glow of the heater, their limbs intertwined in such a mess that it was hard to tell at a glance where one woman ended and the other began. The image gave him a kernel of an idea and he wondered if it was something Zapata had done with them.

Benson was awake and alert; she seemed to understand Spanish well enough to get the gist of the conversation and was shooting daggers out her eyes at him. Alex, on the other hand, was still partly delirious with cold and shivered fiercely. "No," Raul replied nonchalantly, "I told you, they're both mine." The others grumbled momentarily, but did not protest.

Olivia tried to ignore them as the conversation went on, spiraling down into more and more disturbed fantasies of what the men wanted to do to them or see them do with each other.

At some point, Olivia fell asleep and, when she woke, the power was back on and all the men were gone except for Raul. Olivia stretched, gingerly easing away from Alex, who was still deep asleep.

"It should be warming up downstairs. I'll take you two back there in a little bit." His voice was cold and Olivia couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. Alex was right. This man was dangerous. "I haven't forgotten your misbehavior last night."

"I'm sorry, it's just… I was worried about –"

"You're going to pay for that, you know," he threatened. "But I gave my word to your 'friend,'" he sneered, looking at Alex's prone form curled around Olivia. "And whatever else might be said about me, I'm a man of my word. As long as she plays the dirty little whore for me," he smirked, being intentionally crude, "no harm will come to you. So you better hope that she holds up her end."

* * *

><p><strong>December 15, 2003<strong>

Another week passed. Alex got her period for the second time since they'd been captured. This time, she didn't say anything to Olivia about it. The detective was not vomiting in the mornings as often, but still had frequent waves of nausea that left her curled in bed unmoving. She refused to talk about or even think about the possibility that she might be pregnant, instead offering every possible excuse for her symptoms: "I've lost a lot of weight in the last two months," "It's the lack of fresh air," "It's nerves, fear, anxiety, depression…" Alex didn't argue. Whatever the cause of Olivia's symptoms, nothing would be changed by what either of them said or thought, so maybe it was better to just not say anything about it at all.

* * *

><p><strong>December 16, 2003<strong>

In the week since the power outage, the image of the two women clinging to each other in the dim light of the heater kept popping into Raul's head. It fueled his fantasies; even when he was with his wife, he found himself thinking of his two captives.

He had not been back to the warehouse since that night and now, as he descended the stairs into the basement, he felt his heart pounding with excitement. Alex and Olivia were sitting in bed, their heads close together, talking quietly. There was nothing really sexual about their position, but it was just so… _intimate_. They heard him approaching and the tenderness of the moment was shattered as Alex's head snapped around and she stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He grinned.

Olivia leaned over to whisper something in the blonde's ear, but Alex shook her head. Raul unlocked the gate. "Come here," he ordered, "both of you." That shook them, he could tell. The two women looked at each other and then got to their feet, their hands clasped together. "Let's go," he said, nodding them to come forward.

Alex stepped forward, still holding tightly onto Olivia's hand. "What's going on?"

"What's going on is that I'm telling you to move and you're not moving. Now get over here."

They looked at each other again and something passed between them. Olivia nodded and they started walking forward. As soon as they were within arm's reach, Raul seized Olivia by the hair and wrenched her head back forcing her to her knees. "Now," he said evenly, his eyes fixed on Alex, "you and I had a bargain, didn't we? I tell you what to do, you do it, and nobody gets hurt, right?"

"Yes," Alex said quietly.

Raul pulled his gun from its holster and slid the cold length of the barrel down Olivia's cheek. "Remember that," he whispered. "You've already questioned me once just now; that's the only free pass you get."

He released Olivia suddenly, shoving her forward. Olivia coughed as she pushed herself up. "I think we're going to have some fun today – all three of us."

Raul guided them into Zapata's old room. It had been left mostly empty for the past month, except for when Raul brought Alex back to that same room, that same bed on which Zapata had raped her. Olivia hesitated in the doorway and Raul shoved her forward, propelling her toward the bed.

"What do you want?" Alex asked. Olivia was surprised at how calm she sounded and looked over at her. Alex's expression was flat, her eyes glassy and vacant. Olivia reached for her hand, but Alex ignored her. She didn't pull away, but she didn't respond either. It was as if she had gone somewhere else, had separated herself from where they were.

Raul licked his lips, remembering how they had looked together the night of the power outage: naked and bathed in the soft orange glow of the heater, their faces close together and their bodies flush against each other. "I want to watch," he stated baldly.

Olivia jerked Alex around, physically twisting her away so that their faces were hidden from Raul. "Alex!" she whispered hoarsely, "Alex, talk to me."

"Olivia…." The mask of remote detachment fell away for a moment and Alex looked panicked and lost.

"Alex, tell me what you want to do."

"We have to…"

"No!" Olivia replied fiercely, "no, we don't! If you don't want to do this, we'll figure something out, we won't do it."

"If we don't do what he wants," Alex replied, "you _know_ what's going to happen to you."

Olivia stiffened. She did know. They both did. "We won't do anything you don't want to do. Whatever happens after that… happens."

Alex's lips twitched as she tried – and failed – to smile. Unable to speak, she pulled Olivia to her for a hug. They wrapped their arms around each other, clinging together for support. "No, Olivia," she whispered, "I'm not going to let them hurt you."

"This isn't right," Olivia replied quietly. "This isn't how it's supposed to be."

"I know," Alex whispered back, "but it'll be alright."

While they whispered to each other, Raul settled down into the desk chair and turned on the computer. "You know, this whole little hug session would be a lot hotter if you were both naked."

"Just ignore him," Alex murmured.

Olivia nodded, pulling back to look Alex in the eyes. "Pretend he's not there," she said. Alex nodded, leaned forward, and kissed her.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>For those of you anxious for a rescue (I think that's just about everybody at this point), hang in just a little bit longer. I'm almost done with Chapter 23 and I can promise that a rescue will be immanent by 25ish. Just a little bit more and then the real fun starts.

I actually finished this chapter a few days ago and have been working on 23. With this being a short chapter, and with the way it drops off, I didn't want to leave you all hanging. So I'll have 23 up later tonight or tomorrow after work. Plus, if I posted them both at the same time, I know you'd all just right into the next one without leaving me a review. So, now I give you this, you give me _**reviews**, _and I'll give you another chapter ASAP.

For everyone reading _Revenge_, I'll get back to that one soon too. I'm just on a roll with this one right now, so I'm going to go with it for a bit.


	23. Chapter 23

**ATTENTION PEOPLE: **I uploaded two chapters tonight, so if you missed 22, go back and read that first.

* * *

><p>They were both nervous: tentative, and scared. That first kiss was no more than a brush of lips, a hesitant peck. Alex closed her eyes, but Olivia was watchful and saw the flurry of emotion cross her partner's face. "Alex," she whispered, placing a small kiss on Alex's lips, "we don't have to do anything, no matter what he says. You say stop, we stop."<p>

Alex nodded; she didn't trust herself to say anything. Olivia turned away from her and slowly pulled her shirt up over her head. Alex's fingertips brushed, feather-light, over her shoulders. Olivia shivered, her hair rising on her forearms and the back of her neck.

When Alex saw Olivia turn and begin to strip, her heart almost stopped. She reached forward, almost scared to touch Olivia. For months, they had been living together in close proximity with no privacy. They had both seen each other naked before, many times. They had held one another when they cried, and it didn't matter if they were both dressed or if they were sobbing in the shower, battered, bruised, and naked. They had clung together for warmth, comfort, and solace. They had shared an intimacy that Alex had never known with any roommate, friend, or lover – the intimacy of being together in pain and captivity, of being the _only_ support available to each other.

And right now, Alex had no idea how to name what she was feeling. She hastily divested herself of her clothing. She knew that Raul probably wanted them to put on a show; he probably had in mind that this would be like lesbian porn, where the women only existed for the satisfaction of the men watching. She didn't care what he wanted or what he expected. If he was going to force them into this, then they were going to do it their way. And for Alex, that meant that Olivia and she were the only people who mattered. She reached out to touch Olivia, running her fingers over the detective's shoulders and down her olive-skinned back. A trail of goosebumps followed her touch and Olivia shivered.

Alex closed her eyes as images flashed before her, of every time that Zapata had beaten Olivia for her mistakes, every time that Olivia was taken from her and handed over to sadists who raped and abused her for their own pleasure. There were no marks here now, no physical trace of what Olivia had been through. But even still, Alex could see every welt, scrape, and bruise that Olivia had borne. No matter what happened, no matter how much abuse was heaped down on her, Olivia always stood up again. Olivia was always the one ready to fight, ready to resist. Even now, it was Olivia who was willing to do anything, take anything; if Alex only said "stop," Olivia would stop what they were doing and damn the consequences.

She felt Olivia turn; two warm hands grasped hers and lifted it. Olivia placed a soft kiss on her fingertips. "I'm okay," Olivia reassured her. "Are you?"

Alex looked up and her sharp blue eyes met Olivia's warm, comforting gaze. "Yes," she whispered.

Olivia slid her thumbs into her waistband near her hips and wiggled free of her pants, never breaking eye-contact with Alex. Alex took a step closer to her; their bare bodies were only inches apart. They froze, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat coming off the other's body. Olivia was barely breathing and she could see Alex was having the same problem.

It was Alex who broke the moment; she lifted one hand to cradle Olivia's cheek. Olivia smiled, a bittersweet, forlorn smile, and leaned into the touch. Her own hands rose, seemingly without her command, to skim over Alex's arms and sides and come to rest on her waist. Alex leaned into her and caught Olivia's lips in a kiss. Unlike their first hesitant, chaste kiss, this one asked a question: is this okay? Can we do this?

Alex's lips were dry and she was surprised when she felt Olivia's tongue flick over them, not pushing, not pressuring, but asking. Alex responded in kind and soon took control of the kiss, exploring and tasting Olivia's warm mouth, with a subtle dexterity that took Olivia's breath away.

She couldn't help herself. Olivia's hands left Alex's waist and ran up the blonde's back, brushing over the fair, soft skin. She pulled Alex to her, crushing their bodies together. Alex pulled away from the kiss for a moment and Olivia nipped at her lower lip.

Alex's elegant hands moved as through she were outlining a sculpture. Her fingers brushed along Olivia's cheekbone, stroked down the side of her neck, dipped into the curve of her collarbone… and slid down between her breasts. Alex let her hand rest there, feeling Olivia's steady pulse beat beneath her palm.

Olivia closed her eyes as her right hand drifted up Alex's spine, over her shoulder and down her arm, until Olivia's hand rested over Alex's against her heart. Olivia leaned forward, her lips brushing against Alex's ear, their hands still trapped between them against her heart. "I love you," Olivia whispered, too low for anyone but Alex to hear. She wasn't sure what made her say it; she only knew that this situation was horribly wrong and she couldn't do it, couldn't go through with it, if this one thing were not true between them. There had to be something real.

Alex felt herself weaken. She bit back the words on her lips. If she really loved Olivia, she wouldn't be using her like this; they wouldn't be putting on a performance for a twisted druglord with lesbian fantasies. She cared for Olivia, deeply, perhaps more than she had ever cared for anyone outside her own family. She would die to protect Olivia from harm. She felt overwhelmingly tender toward Olivia… she loved Olivia as a friend, as a partner and a companion, but as a lover? Alex wasn't sure. She didn't know. And she couldn't say "I love you;" not now, not in this context, not when they were touching each other because they had to, because they were threatened. What was happening to them now, no matter how tender their touches might be, was forced, was coerced. It was wrong. "Then maybe we shouldn't do this," she whispered back.

Olivia's hands immediately dropped away and the brunette took a half a step backward. She gazed at Alex evenly, her warm, chocolate eyes steady and understanding. "So we stop," Olivia said, not moving, not even breathing.

Alex curled one hand into a fist and squeezed her eyes closed, battling conflicting emotions. If they continued, it felt like a betrayal of whatever real feelings for Olivia she might have… whatever feelings they had for each other. If they stopped… Alex's breath caught. If they stopped, Raul would throw Olivia to his men.

She studied Olivia's face carefully. There was no hesitation or doubt in Olivia's eyes, only endless compassion – compassion that would do anything for love. Alex remembered the bruises, the black eyes and split lips that had been their constant companions. She would not let that happen to Olivia, not again. "But I think… I think I love you too much to stop." The words were quiet, barely audible, but Olivia heard them.

They were slow and careful, exploring each other's bodies with soft touches. Alex stiffened when they moved toward the bed, the bed she had been raped on for the past two months. She let Olivia lie down, stretching out on her back in the middle of the bed and looking up at Alex with tenderness in her eyes. Alex swallowed hard and climbed up onto the bed. She lay on her side next to Olivia and let her touch trail up the brunette's body from thigh to ribcage. She leaned over and gently took a nipple into her mouth as her hand cradled Olivia's breast.

Olivia gasped and turned toward Alex, nuzzling against the blonde's neck. "Alex," she whimpered. Even before they were captured, it had been months since anybody had touched her like this and Olivia felt her body awaken to feelings that had long lain dormant. Her breasts felt heavy with need and ached to be touched.

Alex moved slowly, skimming the flat of her tongue over Olivia's nipple until it stood, pebbled and straining. Then she caught it between her lips and sucked, teasing the tip with the point of her tongue. Olivia arched against her, pressing herself against Alex's lips, into her hands. Alex smiled and moved her attention to Olivia's other breast, letting her long hair fall, long and sleek, over Olivia's body. It was a strange feeling, to touch another woman like this. Alex was surprised by how soft Olivia's breasts were, how responsive she was to every touch. She smiled as her teeth grazed over Olivia's nipple. This was fun.

Eventually, she left Olivia's breasts and kissed her way down the brunette's stomach, leaving a moist trail that evaporated quickly in the cool air. Alex planted a kiss on Olivia's hip. There was an earthy, musky scent and a shimmer of sweat covered Olivia's skin. The brunette's eyes were closed and she had one arm propped under her head – the other stayed with Alex, touching her hand, her shoulder, her hair, as the blonde kissed her way down. Alex hesitated, feeling uncomfortable. She moved farther down, kissing the insides of Olivia's thighs. Olivia was quivering now, her body eager for release.

The blond attorney looked up. In front of her, Olivia's lips glistened with moisture and Alex's nostrils flared as she breathed in Olivia's scent. She reached forward, slowly, and ran one fine finger along Olivia's outer labia. Olivia gave a soft _hummm_ of contentment as she felt Alex's touch finally land on her hot flesh. Alex's brow furrowed. Olivia was so _wet_, her skin hot and slick with desire. Alex felt a choked panic rising in her. She had never been with a woman before. She had definitely never been this close to another woman's sex before and she wasn't sure what she should do. Eat Olivia out? Try fingering for a while? Her head was spinning.

She remembered her first boyfriend then. It was an awkward moment to think of him; she hadn't in years. But she remembered the months of awkward kissing and touching, familiarizing themselves with each other's bodies. They had explored together, his hands learning the female form and hers the male. She had never given him oral sex; she'd never been comfortable with it then. It was only years later, after knowing other men, having other boyfriends, that she'd learned the joy of giving pleasure with her mouth, of touching, smelling, tasting and sucking until he climaxed. And now she felt like she was being deprived of that period of hesitant, innocent exploration. They were skipping over everything, rushing from first touch to completion with no time to think.

Olivia sensed that something was wrong and raised herself up on one elbow, looking down at Alex. Her free hand touched Alex gently under the chin and the blonde looked up, unshed tears glistening in her eyelashes. Olivia's thumb brushed across Alex's cheek. "C'mere," she whispered, drawing Alex up so that the blonde was stretched out on top of her, her face hovering above Olivia's. "It's okay." Olivia rose up to kiss her.

The detective took the lead then, moving her own hand between her legs. Alex swallowed the choked nerves that were caught in her throat and followed Olivia's lead. She lay on her side, stretched out alongside the brunette, with one leg flung over Olivia's. Olivia turned into her, using her own fingers to stimulate herself as Alex's hand hovered over hers, awkwardly mimicking the motions. From a distance, it was enough to look as if Alex was fingering her.

Olivia's fingers moved with long-engrained experienced. Even though she wasn't actually doing anything, Alex was amazed to feel the way Olivia's hips shifted and rolled under her hand, the way her entire body strained as she rapidly pushed herself toward orgasm.

Olivia wrapped one powerful arm around Alex and arched up, her shoulders lifting off the bed as her first orgasm in months ripped through her. Alex felt her ribs groan with the force of Olivia's embrace; she felt Olivia's hot breath panting against the side of her neck as she shuddered, emitting soft, wordless cries. As the orgasm faded, Olivia trembled, her body limp. Her hips twitched, wanting more, but her clit was hyper-sensitive after that orgasm. She ran her fingers gently over the swollen flesh as she slowly came down. Alex began touching her again, licking and kissing her breasts, the taut skin over her ribs, down her side. Olivia smiled, her eyes closed in post-orgasmic delirium. She ran one hand through Alex's hair as the blonde's tongue teased her, tickling just below her ribs. Alex leaned into her hand for a moment and then shifted her position, curling on her side with her head resting on Olivia's stomach. Olivia massaged her scalp, setting a soothing rhythm that lulled Alex into a quiet, peaceful stillness.

They were both silent, their eyes closed. Alex's head rose and fell with Olivia's every breath and soon their breathing synced. Inhale. Exhale. Alex knew her hair was going to be an absolute rat's nest if Olivia continued, but she couldn't bring herself to protest the strong fingers running through her hair, rubbing all of the tension from her scalp.

"I still want to see you make Alex cum." Raul's harsh voice broke into their reverie, splashing over them like a wave of ice water. If Olivia were a leopardess, her hackles would have raised and she would have lunged to tear out his throat. As it was, Alex could have sworn that she heard an angry hiss escape from the woman beside her. Alex looked up and saw a fierce snarl flit across Olivia's face. Anxious, Alex dared a glance at Raul. He was watching them, both of them, with the predatory gaze of a hawk about to strike. The computer beside him was open and pointed at them; the webcam still recording everything. Raul's face turned dark at Olivia's snarl and Alex saw his hand twitch toward the gun sitting on the desk.

Alex didn't think. She pulled Olivia to her, rolling them so that Olivia was on top. Olivia squeaked in surprise, but let Alex pull her over. "Ignore him," Alex muttered. "Remember? Just pretend he's not there."

Olivia pulled back, cold and stiff. Her short hair fell rakishly across her face. "I want to kill him," she growled. Alex could hear the anguish behind Olivia's words. The detective was burning with shame – shame that he had been watching them in an intimate moment and shame that she had allowed herself that release… Here, in this circumstance, in this situation, just the fact that she had experienced pleasure – even at her own hand – felt wrong and dirty. She was shaking with an impotent rage; with every fiber of her being, she wanted to attack him, she wanted to destroy him for what he was doing to them. And she was powerless to do anything.

Olivia pushed away from Alex. She couldn't touch Alex now, not with this rage flowing through her. There was no gentleness in her now; she wanted to smash something, to destroy… anything. She could not touch Alex like this. She wouldn't. She sat, her back to Alex and Raul both, and curled her hands into fists. Her fingernails cut into her skin, digging into her flesh and drawing blood. She heard Alex sit up behind her. "Don't," she ground out.

"Liv," Alex's hand came to rest on her shoulder and Olivia tensed.

"I can't, Alex," Olivia choked out. "I can't."

Alex knew what she meant. The moment they had shared together was broken; the silent peace they had achieved, shattered. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the nape of Olivia's neck, wrapping her arms around Olivia from behind. Olivia's shoulders shook and Alex knew her friend was fighting tears. "Shhh," she soothed, brushing one hand through Olivia's hair, pulling it back from her face. "I know." She hugged Olivia tightly. "I know."

Alex turned away from Olivia. "Raul," she asked quietly, "Please – isn't this enough?" She left Olivia and moved across the small room toward Raul.

Olivia didn't look, didn't turn around. She didn't want to see this. What was the deal Alex had made with him? _Alex would do what he wanted – whatever he wanted – if it meant that Olivia would be safe_. And Raul had said the other night that he liked Alex to play the "dirty little whore." Olivia cringed. She didn't want to hear this; didn't want to hear Alex begging, her pleading interspersed with the sound of kissing. Olivia ducked her head down. The shame she had felt a moment before had just compounded exponentially, weighted down with an added share of guilt that Alex was doing this.

After a few minutes, Raul laughed. Olivia turned then, just in time to see him push Alex off his lap and stand up. Olivia looked at Alex's face, but it was unreadable. She showed no emotion, no distress, nothing. She was gone, completely withdrawn, and it was terrifying to see. This was the face Olivia had seen for the past month, every time Alex came back after being with Raul: cold, isolated, distant, with a mile-thick wall between her and the world.

"Get up," Raul ordered, picking up Olivia's clothes and throwing them at her. "My whore says she needs a man to satisfy her, so maybe you'd best leave us alone for a bit. Unless you want to stay and watch?"

Olivia got to her feet, clutching her clothes to her chest. Alex was standing stock still, an icy statue. Olivia wanted to stop; she wanted to erase the last few minutes, to go back to when she and Alex were curled up peacefully in bed. If Raul hadn't said anything, they would have continued, probably. Then this wouldn't be happening; they would have just done what he wanted and gone home to their cell, together, safe, not like this. Olivia wanted to throw herself at Alex's feet and weep; she wanted to scream.

Raul didn't give her a chance to get dressed. He grabbed her arm and propelled her toward the door. "You can have her back when I'm done," he sneered. Distraught, Olivia looked over her shoulder at Alex. Alex said nothing.

"Alex," Olivia sobbed, looking back at her. _I'm sorry._ She couldn't get the words out.

Alex didn't speak, didn't look at her. But she did respond, her eyes darting so fast that Olivia almost missed the movement as Alex glanced down at Raul's desk…

… at the computer.

It was open, turned on, unlocked, and – Alex could only hope – had a solid internet connection.

Alex's eyes flicked up to meet Olivia's now, to be sure that the detective had seen it. And as Raul dragged Olivia out of the room, Alex allowed a ghost of a smile to cross her lips.


	24. Chapter 24

As soon as Raul and Olivia were out of sight, Alex rushed to the computer. She minimized the webcam video program that had been recording and rushed to find a browser icon. The only one available was Internet Explorer. She clicked and waited for it to load. Her heart was pounding in her chest. If they were caught now, she had no doubt that neither she nor Olivia would live to see the end of the day.

The homepage was taking forever to load. Alex hit refresh, hoping that would speed it up. It did, thank God.

Ever since she and Olivia had first recognized the possibility that Alex might have a chance to get a message out over the internet, Alex had tried to figure out what the fastest way to do it would be. Logging into her email would take too long, she decided. Besides, she wasn't even sure if she remembered her password now.

But the NYPD always had a box on their homepage for people to report crimes or send in tips. In theory it was anonymous, but Alex had seen more cases than she could count where the police tracked down tipsters through supposedly "anonymous" calls or emails. There was no such thing as a tip line without a trace on it. That's what Alex was counting on.

When the site loaded, though, Alex had to bite her lip to keep from cursing in frustration. They had updated the homepage. Alex scrolled down, searching. There used to be a box on the left side of the page that anyone could just type in and hit submit. It was gone.

The hair on the back of her neck was standing on end. She had no idea how much longer Raul would be gone. She didn't know if Olivia would be able to delay him; she didn't think so. If anything, any stalling tactics that Olivia tried would only tip him off. Her window of time was measured in seconds. Every beat of her heart that thudded against her ribcage was another second that she hadn't finished, wiped the recent history, and gotten away from the computer.

She found it! On the right side of the screen was a "crime stoppers" section. She clicked "submit internet tips." Her fingers were stiff and jittery with nerves.

Instead of a simple "fill in and click submit" box, she was faced with a long spreadsheet, asking for her to fill in the suspect's name, race, height, weight, identifying marks, any vehicle information, etc…. She typed "Raul" in the first blank and then scrolled to the bottom of the page, to the box that said "Crime Description."

* * *

><p>Raul seemed to find pleasure in making Olivia squirm. He asked what she had liked best and why she had stopped Alex from going down on her. He asked if her orgasm was real or if she'd faked it. And he said that, if it was real, she must have enjoyed being a bit of an exhibitionist, and maybe he should give her the chance to show those skills off. Olivia set her jaw and tried to ignore him. She dragged her feet and resisted his pull on her arm, trying to slow them down without making it obvious what she was doing.<p>

"You know, we're having a bit of a 'company Christmas party' tonight," Raul said, his tone still cruel and mocking. "I was planning on showing off that video to some of the guys, but maybe you'd rather give a live performance? We can all take in a live show instead of just seeing it on the compu…" He stopped suddenly. "_Oh, SHIT!_"

Olivia tried to grab him, to restrain him, to give Alex a few more seconds, but he shook her off. He swung at her with a deadly rage. Olivia maybe – only maybe – could have blocked his blow, but she took that instant to warn Alex instead: "Alex! _Gun_!" she screamed as he slammed his body against her. He struck with his forearm, an incapacitating blow. His elbow caught her hard in the side of the head, the length of his ulna landing along her cheekbone.

Olivia staggered backward as Raul wrenched his gun from its holster, ran back to the doorway and fired.

Alex heard Olivia's scream and had enough time to throw herself to the floor. Raul fired three rapid shots, directly through his laptop.

Before Alex knew what had happened, he had her pinned to the wall, his gun at her head. "What did you do?" he screamed. Alex cowered, trying to make herself as small as possible. The barrel of his gun bore down, hard enough to leave a circle shaped bruise in the center of her forehead. "What did you send?"

"Nothing!" Alex cried, "I didn't… I…"

He backhanded her with his gun hand and the metal caught, ripping a wide gash across her cheekbone. "Don't fucking lie to me!"

"I didn't! I swear!"

Raul heard Olivia approaching and whirled around, shoving Alex to the ground. "Get back," he growled. "Back up right now or I will blow her brains out."

Olivia held her hands up and backed away. Alex's terrified eyes followed her.

Raul wrapped one hand in Alex's hair and pulled her upright, shoving her forward. The hard metal pressed relentlessly into the small of her back. "Move," he snarled. Alex stumbled forward. Olivia continued backing up, maintaining her distance as Raul and Alex shuffled toward her.

"Get in," Raul ordered, pointing Olivia toward their cell, "and lock it behind you."

That was the last thing that Olivia wanted to do. But Raul had just fired through his computer without even pausing to care if Alex was in the line of fire or not. His deranged glare and the sight of that gun digging into Alex's skin made it clear – if challenged, he would kill them. So, her heart sinking, Olivia stepped backward through the gate and clicked the padlock shut.

Raul threw Alex to the ground with such force that her head rang from the impact. He stood over her, radiating rage. "Tell me," he ground out, "_exactly_ what you did."

"Nothing," she cried, "I didn't do anything! I wasn't…"

He kicked her in the ribs and Alex curled up, grasping her side and crying out in pain. He struck her again and again and again. "Shut up! I saw you on my computer!" His voice dropped to a low growl. "Tell me what you did. Who did you contact?"

"Nn-nothing! N-nobody. I… I wasn't fast enough," Alex forced the words out.

Behind her, behind the gate, Olivia sunk to the ground in despair. _Please, Alex!_ She begged, _please be lying to him… please tell me that you had time…_

Raul knelt over her prone body, straddling her middle. The cut on her face was slowly seeping blood and her salty tears stung the open wound. "Tell me, Alex." He gripped her chin, twisting her head and forcing her to look up at him. "Who were you trying to contact?" Her eyes were wide and terrified, shining pools of clear blue staring up at him.

"The police," she whispered.

"How?" he demanded.

Alex swallowed and closed her eyes. "The NYPD used to have a report-a-crime option on their home page. I'd thought… I had thought that would be the fastest way…"

His grip tightened, squeezing painfully around her jaw. "You have been planning this?" The question was a low rumble, more threat than question.

Helpless, Alex nodded.

Raul's fist slammed into her side just below her ribs. Alex jerked in pain and he grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her up and then slamming her back down against the concrete floor. The pain that shot through her head was so excruciating that she couldn't even scream; all she could do was whimper in agony.

"So, you tried the NYPD?" he coaxed. "And then what?"

The light was hurting her eyes and everything was blurry. "They… they've changed the website… by the time I found the right page," her voice choked, "it was too late."

Raul stood up, towering over her. Alex didn't even try to stand, but curled on her side, cradling her head in her hands. He cocked his head to the side, considering. "I don't believe you," he ruled. "How do I know you didn't send something and are just lying to me about it?"

"Please," Alex begged, "it's true. I didn't… It didn't work." Her protests were useless. He whaled on her, punches and kicks falling on her as she sobbed, "I didn't do it! Please, I didn't do anything!"

She tired and stop struggling long before his rain of blows stopped falling. When finally he stopped, he spat down at her. "Don't go anywhere."

Alex gave a small cough that might have been an attempt at a laugh. _As if I could move right now if I wanted to_, she thought.

Raul dipped into his room and returned with a pair of handcuffs and his cell phone. He dragged Alex to the gate and cuffed her there, lying on the floor on the opposite side from Olivia. Alex didn't resist.

Raul flipped open his phone and dialed. He put the phone on speaker so they could hear when the voice on the other end picked up.

"Yeah? What do you need?" answered a man with an Irish lilt in his voice.

"You remember that hot lawyer? The one my old boss had you looking at back when the cops were trying to pin him?" It never hurt to be circumspect on the phone; one never knew who might be listening.

The voice laughed. "Yeah, his sweet little girlfriend. What, she with you now? And the other one?"

"Yeah," Raul replied, "but that's not really what I'm calling about. I need you to take care of something for me."

"Sure thing. What is it?"

"Rafael told you to go pay the lawyer chick a visit… or to stop by her mom's. You still have mom's address?" Raul saw the panic in Alex's eyes and smiled. He covered the mouth piece of the phone. "You're sure that you never sent your message to the cops?"

"Yes!" Alex croaked. "I'm sure!"

Raul removed his hand and spoke back into the phone, "this doesn't need your personal skill, but maybe you should have one of your guys drop in."

"Not a problem. Consider it done."

"Wait! Please, you can't do this. Please don't – I never sent anything," Alex insisted. "I swear! Nobody knows anything, I didn't contact the police! I didn't! Please don't... don't hurt her, please don't do this!"

Raul looked down at her. "I believe you now," he said to her. And then, to the person on the phone, "Tell the mom her daughter sends her love."

The hair-raising keen that erupted from Alex was an almost inhuman sound, an endless cry of helpless agony. Raul hung up the phone and walked away.

* * *

><p>"Alex?"<p>

It had been several hours since Raul had left and Alex had not said a word to Olivia. She lay listless, cuffed to the gate, unmoving except for the occasional shuddering sob.

"Alex, c'mon, say something."

"What am I supposed to say, Olivia?" Alex's voice sounded tired and broken.

Another hour passed.

And another.

Olivia sat just on the other side of the gate from Alex. If she wanted to, she could reach through the chain link and touch Alex's hands. But Alex didn't want to be touched and so Olivia didn't do anything but sit with her in silence."

* * *

><p>Later that night, Raul came back and he brought another man with him. Alex turned, rolling on her side so her back was to him. Raul kept his eyes on Olivia as he approached the gate. "You remember I told you about that get-together I was having tonight? Well that little stunt you two pulled means that you get to be the guest of honor," he said with a smirk. He unlocked the gate. "Get over here," he beckoned.<p>

Olivia didn't move.

"Or, you know, I could just shoot you where you stand." Raul shrugged indifferently. "But don't you think Alex has already lost enough for one day?"

Alex's shoulders hunched up, but still she didn't speak. Raul's companion marched in and seized Olivia, pushing her to her knees and tying her arms behind her. Olivia gritted her teeth. She didn't fight him, though. She couldn't leave Alex alone now.

Raul gazed dispassionately at Alex as his partner bound Olivia's wrists and dragged her out of the cell and toward the stairs. "Look at me," he ordered. Alex lifted her head and stared at him. Her eyes were empty. Raul stared back at her, a pensive look crossing his face. "What is it about you that makes men lose their heads?" he mused. "More than ten years Zapata ran the cartel's business stateside and managed to weasel his way out of every charge thrown at him. Until you showed up. Until he got stupid and went after you. And that stupidity's what killed him."

It took too much energy to twist around and look at him. Alex slumped, dropping her head to rest on the cool floor.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," Raul snapped, nudging her with his foot. Alex groaned and rolled over to face him. Her hands were still cuffed to the fence, so it was hard to maneuver.

"You made Zapata turn careless and now you're doing the same to me."

Any other day, Alex might have laughed at the idea that she was making him do anything.

"Going after your mother would be a stupid risk and the last thing I need is the cops to come poking around again." Alex's head was spinning and starting to ache again. "I called it off."

A flicker of hope lit in Alex's eyes. "Really?" she whispered in disbelief. She wanted it to be true. She desperately wanted this to be true. Raul didn't answer her.

Raul bent over her and pulled the keys to the handcuffs out of his pocket. He unlocked the cuffs and Alex groaned as she brought her hands down to hug them against her chest. He took her by the upper arm and pulled her to her feet. Alex swayed for a moment before finding her balance. Raul pushed her into her and Olivia's room and locked the gate behind her.

"Where… what are you doing with Olivia?" Alex asked, having finally found her voice.

Raul shrugged. "Even drug cartels can throw parties, yeah? We just provide a different sort of entertainment. Don't worry; I'll bring her back after everyone's had their fun." With that parting shot, he turned on his heel and strode across the room, up the stairs, and out of sight.

* * *

><p>The warehouse floor looked a little different than it had been on the night of the power outage. Most of the tables had been pushed to the side, leaving a clear section in the middle of the room. Four men were setting up a speaker system and two more carried in several cases of beer. On the other side of the room, a couple people were still at work, unpacking blocks of what looked like cocaine from a pile of duffle bags, cutting it, and repackaging it in smaller amounts for street sale. In one corner was a TV, tuned to the sports channel.<p>

Olivia couldn't breathe. She knew that she should fight now, that she should try to scream, run, anything. She couldn't. It was like she was frozen, body and mind, by sheer panic. She knew what was going to happen to her and the knowledge was incapacitating.

She felt numb as the man who had come downstairs with Raul passed her to another man. She didn't even see his face. It didn't matter; he wasn't a person. He was an identity-less monster, a nondescript shadow wearing a man's skin. He dragged her to a sturdy steel table and bent her over, tearing her pants down. The cold, hard edge of the table bit into her hips. She could see the condensation of each breath cloud the shimmery surface.

She closed her eyes, wishing that she could die.

At some point, she was aware that she was screaming and that the noise was bothering the people watching the soccer game. Someone shoved a cloth in her mouth.

More and more men were coming into the warehouse. Raul greeted each man warmly. He was still new as the lieutenant and it was good to create a personal connection with each of his captains and each of the _sicarios_ – the hitmen and bodyguards who protected the top rung and who made their problems disappear. Under Zapata, the sicarios had never been included in the opulent parties he had thrown on his yacht with the captains and other business associates. Raul intended to change that. These men were trained assassins and Raul considered that the closer he brought them in, the more loyal they would be.

Alcohol flowed freely. The soccer game was apparently a close one and there were yells and shouts of jubilation every time a goal was scored.

Someone threw a box of condoms down on the table next to Olivia. "I bet half you fuckers are dirty as sin," he yelled, to the amusement of everybody around. "I don't know what my wife'd say if I showed up at home and had to tell her I caught something from one of you assholes. So wrap it!"

Olivia would have thought that – at some point – the pain would be too much and she would just go numb. But there was no such luck. If anything, her pain and awareness became more acute. She didn't know how many had raped her.

She didn't have energy to scream anymore. The gag had fallen out and nobody had bothered to replace it. Her throat was raw from yelling and the only sound that escaped her lips now was a low moan of pain.

Someone had untied her hands and she had fought while they rolled her over onto her back. Resistance was futile, though. They tied her hands to the legs of the table, her body pulled down so that her tailbone was barely on the table. There was nothing to rest her legs on and her muscles strained with agony.

She didn't see any of them. She didn't want to.

So she wasn't paying attention when a tall, dark-skinned young man came up to the side of the table and slapped her across the face. "So I hear you used to be a cop or something," he purred. Olivia rolled her eyes and turned her face away from him. "Hey! I'm talking to you, bitch!" He grabbed her by the throat and bent over, his lips at her ear. "Act like I'm threatening you," he whispered, his voice low and tense. Olivia squirmed, trying to ease away from him. "Benson, right? Detective Olivia Benson?" Olivia felt like a jolt of electricity had shot through her. She jerked her head, nodding.

"I'm Oscar Malros. I'm DEA, undercover," the man hissed. He straightened, grinning, and scanned the room to make sure nobody was paying too much attention to them. He leaned over Olivia again, yanking her head back by the hair. "The ADA – Alexandra Cabot? Is she alive, is she with you?"

"Yes." The single word fell from her lips.

"Where's Raul keeping you two? Who brought you here tonight?"

"H- here. Downstairs…" It was hard to speak. This felt surreal. She was sure that any minute, Raul was going to appear, laugh, tell her that they had planned this. Her legs ached and she drew them up, her knees to her chest. It was the least painful position possible. "This is real?"

"Yeah - the DEA agent Zapata killed, the one who's murder you were investigating, Livia Sandoval? I used to work with her. I'm really DEA and I'm really going to help you. Now, I'm going to let my handler know you two are here. We're going to get you out. You can hang on a bit longer?"

Olivia nodded.

"OK," he said. "And…" he grew hesitant. "I know you're hurting right now. I brought… there's all sorts of drugs in this place. I've grabbed some valium and rohypnol, in case you wanted... It's… I think Raul's planning for this party to go all night. These'll help you not feel and not remember. Do you want them?"

"Yes." She didn't hesitate and her voice was filled with pure desperation.

He reached into his pocket for the pills and dropped them in her mouth, clamping his hand down over her lips. To anybody watching, it looked like he was trying to suffocate her and she flailed, kicking her legs wildly to support the ruse. She swallowed and he removed his hand. "You… you came over here…," she realized, her heart sinking. "You have to keep up your cover." She barely moved her lips and her voice was so quiet that he almost couldn't make out the words. With the pounding music and the excitement of the soccer game, now in the final quarter, there was no way anybody else could hear them.

He looked abashed. "I won't do anything you if you say no," he promised, "but it would look suspicious if I walked away now after talking to you, and if my cover gets blown…"

Olivia closed her eyes tight. "Do what you have to," she said stiffly, "You have my consent. Just… please… wait a minute for the drugs to kick in. I… everything hurts… right now."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: muahahaha


	25. Chapter 25

**December 16, 2003**

Oscar had been undercover for more than three years now. It was a hard job, walking the line between infiltrating a criminal organization and maintaining his own integrity and responsibilities as a federal agent. Every two weeks, he met with his handler in a secure location – they varied time, day, and place to make sure that there was no reason for the cartel to suspect anything. They had an established emergency contact method if he needed to talk to his handler sometime other than their regular meets. In three years, Oscar had never done that, never broken the routine.

He did tonight, right after leaving Raul's warehouse. He took the subway across the city, wandered into an all-night convenience store and bought a disposable phone. He called a number that he had memorized years before.

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday, December 17, 2003<strong>

Alex jerked awake around 3am to the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. She had fallen asleep slumped against the wall, waiting for Olivia. Her head was throbbing and when she opened her eyes, the light made her vision blur and waver.

There were two men, one of them carried Olivia, passed out and slung over his shoulder. Alex did not move, but watched as they approached, unlocked the gate, and dropped Olivia on the hard ground just inside. Olivia groaned with the impact but made no effort to move. They locked the gate again and turned to leave as Alex stood and slowly, gingerly, made her way over to Olivia. Alex's head spun when she stood, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it, keeping one hand on the wall as she moved to help her balance.

Olivia lay on her back, motionless, her eyes closed. Alex sat next to her, her hands hovering, afraid to touch. "Liv?" Olivia turned slightly toward the voice. Alex reached forward, lightly cupping Olivia's face. There were tear-tracks running down her face, her lips were cracked and bleeding at the corners of her mouth and bruises circled her neck. Alex was afraid to look lower, but she did. Olivia's breasts were covered with bite marks and bruises. There were more bruises on her sides, the purple remnants of men's hands grasping her and holding her down. A thick, purple-red line traced across her from hip bone to hip bone, showing where she had been slammed against the metal table with every thrust. Her inner thighs were almost black with smudges and bruises where greedy, grasping fingers had plunged in to pry her legs apart. Olivia groaned and rolled onto her side, resting her head on Alex's lap. Her hand groped blindly until it met Alex's and she squeezed the blonde's fingers tightly. "Olivia? You awake?"

Olivia opened her eyes then, staring up at Alex. Her eyes were bloodshot and her pupils dilated. "I don't want to be," she mumbled, "but I am." The whole night was a fuzzy blank in her mind; there were flashes of vague memory, but mostly all she knew was that every inch of her body hurt. She frowned. There was something… something important she wanted to tell Alex. But she couldn't remember what it was.

A wave of tears spilled down Alex's face. "I'm so sorry, Liv. I… I should have been faster… If I could've…"

Olivia just squeezed her hand harder.

* * *

><p>By 9am, there was a quiet hum of excitement running through the DEA's office. Agent Hammond was keeping a tight lid on the flow of information – very few people in the office knew exactly what was going on, but they all knew there was something big in the works.<p>

Scott Cohen, Oscar's handler, wanted them to raid the warehouse immediately. "Look, we know that Benson and Cabot are there now and that they're alive. If we wait, we risk losing them. We can get a SWAT team together and have them out by the end of the day." He was standing in Hammond's office with two other upper-level agents; they were having a heated discussion about when and how to take action on their newly discovered intel.

"No," Agent Donners said firmly. "These guys stock weapons like they're their own damn county or something. We go in blind and it's going to be a bloody firefight. There's no point in trying a rescue if we get everybody killed in the process. We need to get the specs on the warehouse, maybe try to get a camera or two in, and we need to pull Oscar out and debrief him to get more details."

Cohen shook his head angrily. "Oscar's been embedded more than three years – we pull him out, they'll know something's up and will be out of that warehouse before we get near it. Look, shouldn't we bring SVU in on this? They'll want to know we found their people."

"Not a chance," Hammond says. "Nothing we know leaves this office until we're ready to move. I don't trust _our_ agency not to leak, there's no way I trust SVU. We lost a good agent last time we dealt with SVU and I still don't know who leaked Donovan's identity."

"There's something else we need to think about," Agent Nichols put in. "We've put years into trying to bring down this cartel. Whenever we go in, we need to make sure we get Raul Sepulveda and at least most of his captains. Otherwise they'll just scatter and regroup somewhere else. They had this big party last night; nobody's going to be there if we go in today. We raid now, we might get Benson and Cabot out, but we lose our shot at the cartel and we miss our chance to get evidence to extradite Cesar Veléz."

"That's true," Hammond replied grudgingly. "Tomorrow, then? You think that will give you enough time to get specs on the building and prep a SWAT team?"

"I'll have to get in touch with Oscar and tell him when we're planning on coming in. I don't want him getting caught in the crossfire."

"Wait," said Nichols, "we rush this and we're going to get nothing. We _have _to make sure the top guys are there when we go in. How do we know if any of them are going to be around tomorrow?"

"Look, if we can get Cabot and Benson out alive, they'll be able to testify. We can put a tail on Raul and pick him up as soon as we're out," Donners put in.

Hammond shook his head. "Raul's a slippery bastard just like Zapata always was. If we don't get him in the raid, he'll vanish before we have a chance to grab him. Anybody here have a way of predicting when he's going to be there?"

There was a pause. Then Cohen spoke, reluctantly. "Oscar said that some of the other _sicarios_ are leaving town Friday morning on bodyguard detail for Raul's wife – she's taking their kids out of town to visit family for Christmas. I'll bet with the wife out of town, he'll be at the warehouse on Friday or Saturday."

Hammond frowned. "I don't like waiting on this," he muttered.

"Then don't," Cohen said, "we can go in today." Donners and Nichols immediately jumped in and they started rehashing their arguments.

"Stop, stop," Hammond said; his agents were just repeating themselves now. "We go in Friday afternoon." They quieted down. "Now, that gives us today and tomorrow to prep. Keep this quiet, don't talk to anyone you don't absolutely have to. Donners, get the building specs and coordinate with SWAT. Cohen, get in touch with Oscar, make sure he's not in that building when the guns come in on Friday. Nichols, I want some of our people going in right behind SWAT, so put together a team."

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday, December 17, 2003<strong>

Alex tried to comfort Olivia, but the detective had vanished into a world of her own. She barely responded when Alex spoke, giving only a grunt or shrug of acknowledgement. She slept most of the day and when she wasn't sleeping, she sat against the wall with her knees tucked up to her chest, staring into space. She was unreachable.

Alex didn't want to crowd Olivia, but neither did she want to leave her alone. She sat a few feet away, reading a book.

They passed the afternoon without speaking.

"Alex," Olivia's voice was hoarse and quiet when she finally spoke later that night. "I'm sorry about your mom."

Alex started, surprised by the sudden break in the silence. "I think she's OK," Alex said slowly, "The other night, after they took you away, Raul said he was going to call it off."

"And you believe him?"

Alex shrugged. "I guess. I… I need to believe it."

Olivia nodded. "That's good then."

"Liv, I'm sorry… for what they did to you. I'm so, so, sorry."

Olivia shook her head slowly. "It's not… I just don't want to think about it. I can't. But it's not your fault."

"I just wish that I hadn't… that I'd never gone near that computer. Then none of this would have happened."

"Stop it, Alex. It's not your fault and I _really _don't want to talk about this," Olivia snapped.

Alex fell quiet. "Sorry," she said.

Olivia immediately felt bad for snapping; no matter what whirl of emotion she was trapped in, there was no reason to take it out on Alex. She reached out and Alex scooted closer to take her hand. Olivia pressed her lips tight and gripped Alex's hand. It was as much of an apology as she could manage right now.

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday, December 18, 2003<strong>

Olivia's memory of that night was piecemeal. She wasn't sure if that made it better or worse – not knowing what had happened to her. She remembered being taken out of their cell. She remembered flashes after that – more like imprints of sensation than actual memory. A voice whispering in her ear. A cold, smooth surface beneath her. The taste of iron in her mouth. Pain. Pain between her legs. Pain everywhere. The gravelly feel of a cold floor under her knees. More pain.

These ghosts of memories tormented her. Alex didn't press her, but Olivia could tell that she was worried by the way she hovered nearby, never more than an arm's reach away.

She couldn't speak. Olivia didn't know what was wrong, but she just felt like every time she opened her mouth to say something, she was about to start bawling. So she was quiet and withdrawn, tuning out the world around her.

"Olivia?" Alex's voice broke her silent reverie. Olivia glanced up. Somehow the day had slipped by without her noticing; the evening news was playing on the TV. "You want something to eat?" Olivia shook her head. "You have to have something; you haven't eaten anything in two days."

Olivia shook her head. Just the thought of food made her feel nauseous. "I can't do this," she murmured, her eyes stinging.

"Can't do what? Eat? Sure you can," Alex teased. Olivia shot her a cold look that said, in no uncertain terms, that this was not a time for light humor. "Sorry." Alex sat down beside her and Olivia leaned over, resting her head on Alex's shoulder. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Don't think so," Olivia replied shortly.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" asked Alex.

"No," Olivia said finally. "Stay."

Alex relaxed, putting her arm around Olivia and brushing her fingers through a web of dark, tangled hair. "I can do that," she said, resting her own head atop Olivia's.

"I can't remember," Olivia said, after they had been sitting that way for a while. "I remember them taking me out of here. And I have some… I remember some things, just flashes here and there. But then there's just a big blank. And I don't… I don't really know how to deal with that."

Alex's lips pursed together. "I'm sorry, Liv." And this time it wasn't a guilt-ridden apology for something that wasn't her fault. She was sorry – sorry that this had happened, sorry that Olivia was suffering. "I wish I could help."

"You are," Olivia stated simply. "This… just this… helps."

* * *

><p>Later that night, as they lay together in bed, Olivia asked, "Alex? What happened the other day? Between us?" Some conversations were easier to have at night, in the dark, with their faces hidden from each other.<p>

Alex bit her lip. "You don't remember?" They were facing each other, tucked close enough to feel every movement and hear every whisper, but Alex couldn't make out Olivia's expression.

"No," Olivia said quickly, "I remember, I just…" She ran her hand through her hair and massaged her brow. "God, Alex, there's been so much… and I don't know how to deal with any of this… But I'm… I don't know what to think… about… that."

It felt like a lifetime had passed in the last two days. Alex still remembered the sheer, helpless horror that had engulfed her when he threatened her mother. Her head still ached from where Raul had slammed her against the floor. All she really wanted was to lie down with a pack of ice and not move for a week; but right now Olivia was suffering much more than she, so Alex ignored the throbbing in her head and the vertigo that enveloped her every time she stood. She remembered how her heart had pounded in her chest, how her whole body had thrummed with adrenaline as she stood in front of the computer. So much had happened in two days.

"I wasn't going to let him hurt you," Alex said bitterly. "Look how well that plan turned out."

"I would've done the same thing if it'd been me with a chance to get a message out," Olivia said. "Don't blame yourself for that. Just don't. But…" Olivia hesitated, "I was wondering how you felt about what happened before that… about what we did."

Olivia couldn't see Alex's face, but she heard the soft, pensive "humm" as Alex considered.

"I'm not sure," Alex said at last. "If things had– if it hadn't been… like that… I don't know, Liv. It all just happened so fast. One minute everything's normal and the next we're… doing that… with him there," she shuddered. "What about you?"

"I don't know either," Olivia replied. "Honestly, so much has happened… I just don't… I don't know how to process any of it, you know? There's just too much."

"You said something," Alex said slowly. "When we were..."

"I know," whispered Olivia. "I said that I love you."

"How– What did you mean?" The lines between friends, companions, and something more were getting increasingly blurry and neither of them was exactly sure where they stood.

Olivia took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm not sure," she finally said. "I– Can we talk about – that – another time? I just wanted to make sure you didn't feel like I pushed you into it or anything – that you weren't going to hate me for what we did."

Alex hugged her tightly. "Never," she promised. "We can talk later."

* * *

><p><strong>Friday, December 19, 2003<strong>

Olivia woke up, restless, in the early hours of the morning; she was wrapped in the warm, comforting embrace of Alex's arms. Olivia rolled over so that they were face-to-face. Alex seemed to sense the change and her eyes flickered open. "You ok?" asked Alex. Her voice was drowsy and Olivia smiled, knowing that Alex was only half-conscious.

Olivia shrugged. "I will be, I guess. Is there any other option?"

"Don't know," Alex mumbled, her eyes closed.

Olivia sighed. Her whole body was sore and it hurt to move as every shift put pressure on healing bruises. But she snuggled a little closer to Alex, inhaling deeply. Just this closeness was calming. She felt safer next to Alex, no matter that they both knew there was no safety here. After a few minutes, Olivia's breathing slowed into a steady rhythm. "'love you," Alex mumbled, falling back asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>11:00am, Friday, December 19, 2003<strong>

Cragen was in the precinct when his cell phone rang. "Cragen," he answered.

"Captain Cragen, this is Agent Hammond with the DEA. I have some news I think you'll want to hear."

"Really?" Cragen walked into his office and closed the door. "And what is that?"

"Not something to talk about over the phone. Can you meet me at the federal building in an hour? Just you?"

"Sure." Cragen looked at his watch. "I'll see you there at noon." He hung up, a strange expression on his face.

"Hey, John," Cragen called Munch into his office. "Hammond from the DEA just called me. Can you cover things here for the afternoon? I'm going to go see what he wants."

"Hammond?" Munch asked, "Isn't that the agent that was running the DEA's investigation of Zapata? Donovan's boss?"

"Yeah, that's him," answered Cragen. He wanted to say _Hammond says he's got news_, but he didn't know what that news was and he didn't want to get his squad's hopes up if it turned out to be nothing. He could wait, until he knew for sure what Hammond's news was… and if it was good news or bad.

* * *

><p><strong>12:00pm, Friday, December 19, 2003<strong>

Hammond was strapping on his bullet-proof vest when Cragen walked in. "What do you know?" Cragen asked without preliminaries.

"One of my undercovers made contact with Benson." Hammond neglected to mention that the agent had made contact three days before. "She and Cabot are both alive and we know where they're being held. If you want to come, grab a vest; you can ride with me in the van."

Cragen grabbed a dark vest, "DEA" emblazoned across the chest in bold letters. "Where are they?"

"The cartel has a warehouse we just found out about in Queens. They're using it to cut the fresh coke they get from Columbia and pass it on to their distributers. Benson and Cabot are being kept in the basement. We're loading to raid the warehouse now."

Cragen followed Hammond down to the underground garage where no less than three SWAT teams were loading into unmarked vans. Two more vans held the DEA team and a mobile command center. Cragen climbed into the command van after Hammond. The DEA was federally funded, which meant they had better toys than Cragen usually saw at SVU.

"You want to tell me why I'm only hearing about this now?" Cragen asked. "These are my people; you should have brought us in the second you knew where they were."

"Captain Cragen, you're here as a courtesy. This is a DEA case and has been from the start. Your squad just _had_ to get involved back in October and they got one of my men killed, two of your people captured and another vanished into Witsec for a month. After that mess, what makes you think I'd want SVU anywhere near here when we've got a chance to actually bust this cartel wide open? The only reason you're here is because, if I were in your place, I'd want to be. But I wasn't going to risk this op by bringing in people I don't know – and frankly, people I don't trust – who might leak it to the wrong ears."

Cragen bristled. "You think we had anything to do with that? My unit is tight – it could have been anyone in your office or even in the courthouse who leaked Donovan's identity."

"It could have been," Hammond conceded. "But I don't know who it was, so I don't trust anyone."

"You should've brought my people in on this – DEA's got no experience dealing with victims. It should be SVU on scene when we get Olivia and Alex out of there."

"Well, it's not going to be," Hammond stated firmly. "I've got my best people on this case; they can handle arresting the perps _and_ dealing with the victims. This is my case, Captain. It's my play. You can either accept that or you can leave and I'll let you know when we've got Cabot and Benson."

Cragen scowled. Hammond was right – it was his case. If Cragen had known about this even a few hours before, he could have tried to get SVU put on the case, tried to get his team on scene. But there wasn't time now – the vans were loaded up and ready to move out.

"What's the plan?" Cragen gripped a handhold on the roof as the van lurched forward.

Hammond pulled up the warehouse schematics on the computer. "We're going in through the back of the warehouse with two teams, the third will be stationed at the front of the building to catch anyone who tries to come out." He zoomed in. Near the back of the warehouse floor was a stairwell. "As soon as they're through the doors, Team 2 will head down these stairs to the basement, where our intel suggests Cabot and Benson are being held. They'll secure the basement and hold it until Teams 1 and 3 have the warehouse floor secured and we can bring everybody out."

"What surveillance do we have?"

"Not a lot in terms of advance surveillance, but we'll be able to follow everything that happens once we get close. Each of the team leaders has a head cam that we can watch on those screens," Hammond pointed at a panel on the passenger side of the van. "We have long-range audio recording that'll be good for an initial survey before they go in, but you don't want those headphones on when guns start going off. And we have infrared. So, once we're in range, that should tell us whether or not there are actually two people locked in that basement."

"And if they're not there? If your intel is wrong?"

"We go in anyway. We get the drugs and round up anyone in the building." Hammond saw Cragen's look. "The undercover who saw Benson is a good agent – if he says she was there, she was."

It was an hour's drive from the federal building to the warehouse out in Queens. The traffic crept along. The combination of adrenaline and the long wait in the van made Cragen feel jittery, though nobody could tell by looking at him. A voice in his head, the same one that whispered to him through the long years of sobriety said _all you need is a sip. It'll calm you down. You'll feel better. Just one sip_. Cragen ignored it, as he had every day for more than a decade.

"We're almost here." Hammond announced as the van bounced over a section of uneven pavement. Hammond spoke into his headset. "Nobody approach the building until all teams are confirmed go. Sit rep everyone – tell me where you are."

One by one, each team call in, confirmed their position, and announced they were ready.

"Alright, we are clear to go," Hammond said. "Team 1, team 2, back of the warehouse. Team 3, anybody trying to come out the front is yours. Everyone set? Yes? Then let's move. _Go, go, go!_"

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews make me happy<strong>!

OK, so I struggled with this chapter. Everything they're feeling right now - both of them - is just such a complex roil of emotion that I don't know if I can do it justice. I tried. I don't think I quite succeeded, but at least the broad gestures are there. Let me know what you think and if there's anything I can edit to make it better (can't promise anything, though, I went through like 5 different versions of how I wanted things to be before finally just getting this out on the computer).


	26. Rescued

**Friday, December 19, 2003**

It was early afternoon when Olivia heard gunshots. Her head snapped up to attention, staring at the thick ceiling above them that muffled the sharp sound. Her blood ran cold as she jumped to her feet.

Alex had been sitting on the ground, her back against the bed, watching TV. When the gunfire started, Alex froze, paralyzed with fear.

"Get behind the bed," Olivia said. In their sparsely furnished cell, it was the only thing that offered any measure of protection. It gave them something to hide behind and, though it wouldn't stop any bullets, it might slow them. Maybe.

Olivia's calm, steady voice was enough to move her; Alex stood.

Olivia's eyes were glued to the stairwell; she saw the two men stumbling down the stairs before Alex had even taken two steps. They both looked vaguely familiar; they were Raul's men. One of them was bleeding from the side and the other dragged him along. The injured one twisted his head, staring at Olivia and Alex with a feral snarl.

He was scared and he was cornered. That made him dangerous.

"Alex, get down!" Olivia cried out just as she saw the man raise an assault rifle. Olivia lunged forward. She seized Alex by the shoulders and spun her around, turning them so Olivia's back was to the men. Adrenaline burned through her as she shoved Alex to the ground behind the bed and threw herself down beside her.

The first showering spurt of bullets went wide, driving into the wall at the far end of the room, safely over their prone bodies. Alex lifted her head, turning toward Olivia.

Olivia shook her head and signaled Alex to move. They turned together, lying long-ways next to the wall, their feet toward the bed and the shooters. Olivia wanted to position them to be the smallest, least vulnerable targets possible.

They heard the gate rattle. The men didn't have the keys. Olivia let out a slow breath, her whole body still shaking with tension.

And then they opened fire again. Olivia stretched out over Alex, shielding the other woman's body with her own. Neither of them made any sound as the second round tore into the bed behind them. The fabric, springs, and wooden frame offered little protection; they did virtually nothing to slow the bullets, but they did prevent the gunmen from aiming. Olivia and Alex both had their hands wrapped over their heads, as if that would do anything at all to protect them. All Olivia would see were her own arms, the floor underneath her and, out of the corner of her eye, Alex's terrified face.

The guns continued to fire, but there were no more bullets flying over the two women's heads. Something had distracted the shooters, pulling their attention in another direction. Alex tried to get up, but Olivia, still half-laying on top of her, did not budge.

There was a brilliant flash of light and a sound like a cannon going off in their ears. Alex screamed. She couldn't hear her own voice. She couldn't hear gunshots. She couldn't hear anything. She lurched in panic, throwing Olivia off of her to the side.

Alex groped blindly until her hand met the wall and she pulled herself up to her knees, blinking. Colored balls of light danced in her vision as she peered over the bullet-shredded mattress.

There were six men in dark, bulky bulletproof vests and full SWAT gear, covered in black from head to toe. One of them spotted Alex and signaled the others to lower their weapons.

The leader removed his helmet and said something Alex couldn't hear. Her ears were still ringing. But she saw "SWAT" inscribed on their chest-pieces in bold white letters.

Alex slowly got to her feet. Her knees were shaking and she braced her arms on the edge of the bed, not trusting her legs to hold her. The world was spinning around her. Her head pounded, throbbing against the inside of her skull so hard it made her eyes water.

Raul's two men were on the floor, crumpled in pools of their own blood, their guns still in their hands. Alex stared at the bodies, uncomprehending.

Another member of the SWAT team was picking the lock to open the gate.

Alex shook her head to clear her ears. That was a mistake. A wake of pain rushed over her, threatening to split her skull. She gritted her teeth and held one hand to her head, sinking back down to the floor next to Olivia.

Olivia was lying on her back, one arm flung up over her eyes. "Olivia," Alex said, and her voice sounded distant, even to her own ears. "Olivia, it's over. We're safe."

Olivia groaned and rolled to her side, toward Alex. There was a dark smear of blood on the ground underneath her. Alex gasped. Olivia's eyes were dazed and unfocused. She tried to sit, but got halfway up, let out a yelp of pain, and stopped.

"Liv, stop!" Alex insisted, "just lay down – you're bleeding."

Olivia stared at her lips; she couldn't hear either, not after that deafening bang. Alex pointed at the blood on the ground. Olivia twisted around, trying to see. Her eyes widened and she reached back with one hand, wincing. Her fingers came away covered in blood. Olivia gave up on trying to sit and allowed Alex to support her in a half-supine position. "What…? What happened?" she stuttered in shock.

Now that the moment of adrenaline was fading, the pain began to hit her in full force. Olivia had never been shot before; she didn't even know she _could_ feel pain like this. She gritted her teeth to hold back a scream. It felt like someone had driven a hot poker iron up though her leg and slammed it into her hip. The pain was blinding and all encompassing. She couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't hear anything but the blood pounding in her ears.

The SWAT team was in their room now. Alex couldn't help but flinch as they circled around her and Olivia. Police or no, six heavily armed men standing so close made her uncomfortable. She shrank, hunching her shoulders and huddling protectively over Olivia.

One of the officers waved back the rest of the team. They retreated to the far side of the room. The young officer knelt a few feet away from Olivia and Alex. "Ms. Cabot? Ms. Cabot, can you hear me?"

"Yes," Alex said. His voice was muffled and faint, distorted by the endless ringing. But she could hear him well enough to make out the words.

"OK, I need to look at Detective Benson. I need to see where she'd injured. It's better if she's laying down flat," he explained.

Alex gave a jerky nod and allowed him to ease Olivia from her arms, rolling her gently over onto her stomach. As they moved, he spoke to Olivia. "Detective Benson, my name is Charles Wyatt; I'm NYPD; I'm here to help you. I'm just going to check and see where you're hurt. Is that alright?" His voice was calm and soothing. It was the same reassuring tone that Olivia had used a thousand times when speaking with victims. She nodded her assent.

Out of Alex's arms, Olivia was tense, her eyes wide. Her jaw was locked and she trembled against the pain. Alex held her hand tight as Charles examined her. There was a bullet wound in her left thigh. Blood was seeping slowly out of the hole. He placed one hand down firmly, applying pressure. With his other hand, he held spoke into his radio. "Basement is secure; Cabot and Benson are both alive. Benson's wounded though; bullet entered the thigh at an upward angle and I don't see an exit wound. Got an ETA on the ambulance?"

The radio crackled. "Dirtbags are all dead or in cuffs. We're sending the EMTs down now."

* * *

><p>Five EMTs came down the stairs moments later, carrying two collapsible stretchers. Alex was shaking. She didn't care that they were there to help, all she knew was that there were more men in her and Olivia's room than she was comfortable with and they were all standing way too close.<p>

Three of the EMTs went to Olivia, taking the SWAT officer's place at her side. Alex knew she was in their way, but she didn't care. She wasn't going to budge. Olivia squeezed Alex's hand tightly as they examined her, so tightly that Alex could feel the bones in her hand grinding together. Olivia's wide eyes sought out Alex's, and the attorney could see her own fear reflected back at her.

"Ms. Cabot?" One of the other EMTs was trying to get Alex's attention. They needed to check her out too.

Alex shook her head. "I'm fine," she said. "I just want to stay with Olivia. Can I ride in the ambulance with her?" She almost cringed, hearing herself. In another time, in another life, she never would have asked. She would have just announced her intention. She used to be so assertive, so sure of herself. The paramedic looked uncertain.

"Yes," a familiar voice spoke up. "If she doesn't need any immediate medical care, let her do what she wants," Cragen said to the paramedic. Alex looked and saw Captain Cragen and Agent Hammond walking toward them.

Cragen saw Alex turn to face him. She looked so different from the last time he'd seen her: smaller, somehow. Resilient, but timid and fragile in a way she had never been before. Her face was drawn, her eyes shadowed and sunken. Faded, yellow-grey bruises covered her arms and there was a long, ugly scratch running the length of her right cheekbone. She did not leave Olivia's side; forcing the paramedics to work around her. Cragen couldn't even see Olivia through the EMTs clustered around. He wasn't sure what to say. "Hi, Alex."

Alex paled when she saw him and turned her face away. She didn't want anyone to see her like this. She couldn't deal with this. SWAT teams, paramedics, and even the DEA agent, whom she had met a few times before – that was one thing. That she could bear. But for Cragen, someone she had known and respected for years, to see her now, like this… that she couldn't take.

Cragen stopped cold. He'd seen the fleeting expression on Alex's face when he spoke to her. He'd seen the way her eyes lowered, her shoulders hunched in shame. She didn't want him there. He halted outside the gate. Hammond brushed past him, heading to speak with Alex and Olivia.

As everyone else was busy working, Cragen scanned the room. It was a cage. There was no other way to say it. Three high concrete walls stretched upward to a concrete ceiling. The florescent lights overhead were old and at least a third of the bulbs had burned out, making the whole room feel dark and dank. There was a stale smell in the air, the smell of dirt and mold accumulated over years.

In one corner was a bathroom of sorts. The lines in the floor showed that there used to be a wall, separating the bathroom from the rest of the space. There was no privacy here: the toilet, shower, and sink were all plainly visible to anyone in the basement, whether inside or outside the cell. The shower was little more than a spigot coming out of the wall at about head level. There was no shower head and the privacy wall surrounding it only came up to waist height. A wooden chair next to the shower held two rumpled towels and a small pile of neatly folded clothing.

A few shelves with a mini-refrigerator and a microwave made a small kitchenette. Plastic plates, bowls and cups were stacked on top of the microwave and the shelves were stocked with canned food and non-refrigerated microwave meals.

Fluffs of mattress stuffing floated around the floor, torn from the queen-sized bed by passing bullets. The far wall showed signs of impact where the bullets had embedded themselves. The bed was rumpled, the sheets tossed haphazardly aside. At the foot of the bed, facing toward the TV on the other side of the fence, a folded blanket and a few pillows made a little sitting area. An upturned cardboard box served as a tiny table. It held two books: one was closed and dog-eared, the other left open, the spine worn. A dozen or more books were propped against the wall in stacks.

It was a miserable place. Cragen hated to think that Olivia and Alex had been trapped here for more than two months now. He hated to think what they must have suffered.

* * *

><p>Olivia never let go of Alex's hand. She was silent as the EMTs eased her onto the stretcher and started strapping her down. It was an awkward position; they had to secure her safely to the board, but she couldn't lie on her back. So she ended up half on her side, her eyes fixed on Alex. As the EMTs lifted and Olivia felt herself lurch up into the air, she clung Alex's hand.<p>

As they wheeled her out, Olivia spotted Cragen. "Captain," she said, surprised. Her speech was slurred and slow. They had given her a minor dose of Fentanyl to ease the pain until they could get her to the hospital. It helped, but she felt dizzy and disoriented.

Cragen took a half step toward her. "Olivia," he said, choked up. "We're going to get you to the hospital. You're going to be alright."

One of the paramedics adjusted his grip on the stretcher. They had to hand-carry her up the stairs, so they hadn't bothered unfolding the wheels yet. Olivia groaned in pain as her weight shifted.

Alex stayed next to her, only dropping her hand when they went up the stairs. There wasn't enough space for the stretcher and her to go up side-by-side and she didn't want to risk jostling Olivia.

When they emerged in the warehouse floor, Alex paused, looking around. Tables were overturned and the acrid smell of gunsmoke hung in the air. A cluster of police officers stood guard over a line of about a dozen men on their knees, their hands cuffed behind them. Raul was among them. He glared at Alex, pure hatred radiating from his eyes. Alex looked away, unable to face him.

She turned back toward Olivia. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She could barely believe this was happening.

Olivia was staring at her with an odd expression. "Alex, what happened to your ear?" She hadn't noticed until Alex had turned away from her to survey the warehouse. "It's bleeding."

Overhearing Olivia's comment, one of the paramedics stopped to examine Alex. He frowned when he shone a light in her eyes. "Have you had a recent head injury?" he asked.

"Yes," Olivia supplied when Alex didn't answer immediately. "She got hit on the head pretty bad two– no, three days ago."

"Have you been having pain since then? Migraines? Dizziness, nausea, vertigo? Disorientation, sensitivity to light or a change in sleep patterns?"

"Yes," Alex answered. "A little."

One of the SWAT team members overheard the brief examination. "We had to throw a flashbang down into the basement," he said. "That could have had an impact, especially if she was already concussed."

The paramedic gave him a hard look. "You should have told us that from the start," he said. Then, to Alex, "Sorry, but you're going to have to have an ambulance of your own." He waved for one of his coworkers to bring the other stretcher over.

They set the two stretchers side by side so that Alex could see Olivia out of the corner of her eye as the EMTs moved around, strapping her to the hard surface. They left her hands free and she was able to reach out with one hand and find Olivia's fingertips stretching toward her. Alex felt a tight ball of fear in the pit of her stomach.

They were still holding hands as the paramedics pushed the two stretchers through the doorway from the warehouse into the sunlight outside.

It was blinding.

Alex closed her eyes against the glare, but that wasn't enough. She brought her arm up to shield her face. Olivia had to do the same. The sunlight was so bright it was painful. Even with their eyes closed, they could still see its burning glare and feel its heat kiss their faces even as the cool December wind rushed over their bodies.

The sunlight was blinding… and beautiful.

The parking lot outside the warehouse was busy, swarming with cops, DEA agents, and paramedics. The media was arriving, television crews setting up behind police blockades. Alex overheard one cop say that there were news helicopters on their way. The ambulances were waiting with open doors. The paramedics moved quickly and efficiently, loading Alex and Olivia into back of their ambulances and shutting the doors.

Alex stared up at the ceiling of the ambulance as it moved forward. There was a paramedic in the back with her, and someone else – a police officer, a DEA agent… Alex wasn't sure. He was talking to her, trying to ask questions. Alex wasn't listening. There was a ball of fear spun tight in her stomach. She felt a sob rise in her throat and choked it back. Above her, the sound of sirens pierced the air as they pulled away from the warehouse and headed toward the hospital.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>...and, we're out! Now the healing process can begin... Before anyone starts chucking bricks at me, let me say that they're both going to be fine, they're going to the same hospital, and they'll see each other again as soon as they've received medical care. :D

And, as always, I love **reviews**, so let me know what you think!


	27. Chapter 27

Olivia barely remembered the ambulance ride. Her eyes kept closing as the paramedic asked her questions – medical history, blood type, allergies. She wanted to sleep.

When they got to the hospital, everything was a blur. She watched the lights pass overhead as they rolled her down the hall. There were voices all around, but she couldn't hear what they were saying. As they rolled her through the doors toward surgery, she heard Cragen's voice from the waiting area, and Munch and Fin. She thought she heard someone else too… _no, _Olivia reminded herself. _It's not him. He's dead. _

She was adrift, floating in and out of consciousness. The paramedic who had been in the ambulance with her kept talking, trying to keep her awake, but she could only catch snippets of what was happening around her. There was a needle in her arm. A light shone bright into her eyes and she blinked hard against the glare. People, nameless, faceless people – ghosts in white coats and green scrubs – hovered around her. The endless murmur of voices was an impenetrable, unintelligible hum in the air.

Then she was in a cold, sterile room and someone was cutting off her clothes. _No!_ Olivia thrashed in panic. It hurt. Every tiny movement brought a fresh wave of red-hot pain. She twisted on the table, trying to escape. Strong hands grabbed her by the arms, by the legs, and held her down on a smooth metal surface.

_NO! _She couldn't speak, couldn't find the words. _No, please! Not again. I thought it was over. I thought we were safe. No!_ Olivia sobbed. Tears ran down her face and pooled on the table underneath her.

Someone held a mask to her face. Olivia wrenched her head away, but the hand holding the mask followed her. She gasped for air, but what she inhaled tasted cold and foreign. She shook. She could feel her body weakening, all the strength leaving her muscles. _No!_ She ground her teeth in frustration. _I can't give up. I have to fight this._ But all it took was another few breaths and she slipped off into a quiet, peaceful darkness.

* * *

><p>After getting her basic information, they took Alex to an exam room, where she changed into a hospital gown. A police officer placed her clothes in evidence bags and sealed them. When the officer left, Alex was alone for a brief moment. She sat, nervous and tense, perched on the edge of the exam table. She tucked the sides of the hospital gown under her legs, trying to cover herself as much as possible. She felt naked in the paper-thin garment that only partially covered her front and was entirely open in the back. She felt naked, very vulnerable, and very afraid.<p>

But all too soon, the door opened and a doctor entered, followed by a middle-aged woman in a dark blue suit, her brown hair curled in a tidy bun at the nape of her neck. The doctor introduced himself, but Alex's eyes were on the other woman.

Special Agent Laura Covington introduced herself in a brisk, no-nonsense manner. She explained that she was an investigator with the DEA's office and would be taking statements from Alex and Olivia. "I understand you might not be ready to give a full statement right away," she said, "but anything you can tell me will help put these men in jail for a long time. Do you mind if I stay with you during the exam? That way you don't have to repeat anything twice – once to the doctor and once to me."

Alex forced herself to extend her hand. "I'm Alex," she said in return. "That's fine."

The investigator smiled gently. "You can call me Laura," she said.

Then the doctor took over, asking simple questions as he checked her basic vitals. "The EMTs mentioned that you hit your head a few days ago. Do you remember what happened?

"Yes," Alex replied. Then, because Laura was in the room, with pen and paper waiting, Alex explained a little more. "On Tuesday, I…" She stopped. She wasn't ready to talk about this. She didn't want to talk about this. "He was angry. Raul was. I was on the ground and he slammed my head against the floor." She could see that Laura wanted more details, but Alex pressed her lips closed. It was still too fresh in her mind, too painful to think about.

"Did you lose consciousness?" the doctor asked

"No." He had his stethoscope out now and was checking her breathing.

"Any nausea or vomiting afterward?"

"Nausea, yes, but no vomiting." This she could do. Question. Answer. This she could manage.

"Any memory loss?"

"No."

"And tell me about today. What happened?"

"We…" Alex's heart was racing. Her mouth felt dry. "We heard gunshots upstairs. I froze – I didn't know what to do. Then two men came downstairs; they had guns with them. Olivia grabbed me and pushed me behind the bed to take cover." She hesitated, reaching up with one hand to brush a growing goose egg on her forehead. "I hit my head on the floor. It wasn't her fault; she saved me – if she hadn't shoved me down like that, I would have just been standing there when they started shooting."

"Did you black out then?"

"I… I don't think so," Alex said slowly. "I don't really…. I don't remember much."

"What's the next thing you do remember?"

"There was an explosion – the SWAT team threw a flashbang grenade into the basement. I couldn't see for a second, because it had been so bright. And it was loud. I couldn't hear anything for a few minutes and even since then everything sounds fuzzy and my ears are still ringing."

"Is that when your ear started bleeding?"

"I guess so," Alex said. The trickle of blood had dried, leaving a reddish-brown smear running down the side of her neck. "I didn't notice it until Olivia said something, when we were taking her to the ambulance."

"OK, we're going to do a CT scan to have a look." He opened the door and called to a nurse in the hall with a wheelchair. Alex grimaced but didn't protest as the nurse helped her down off the table and into the chair.

Through the whole scan, Alex lay stiff on the flat surface, her eyes closed and her hands curled into fists at her sides. She felt cold and afraid. When the scan was finished, she got back in the wheelchair and let the nurse take her back to the exam room. Laura was still in the room, but the doctor was down the hall waiting on the CT results.

Alex saw Laura's expression. It was the same look that Olivia had when she needed to press a victim for information. It showed a glimpse of the inner battle between wanting to tread lightly for the victim's sake and wanting to get answers and get them fast. Alex spoke first, "I don't think I can give you anything today," she said. "It's… too much."

Laura nodded. "I understand," she said. "As soon as we have the Sexual Assault Examination done, that will be it for today."

"No," Alex said firmly. "I don't need an SAE."

"We need to collect any evidence; the sooner the better."

"I know that," Alex snapped. "And I'm telling you I don't want it. Document my injuries, I know you need that much. But I don't want the SAE." It had been four or five days since Raul had last raped her. Alex knew that there was virtually nothing to be gained by doing an SAE at this point, but detectives often tried to get SAEs as much as a week after an assault, on the off chance there was still some evidence to be had. There was nothing to be gained by it. As Alex saw it, the case against Raul was solid enough already; there was no reason for her to let herself be needlessly poked, prodded, and examined.

* * *

><p>Elliot paced in the waiting area outside surgery. He wasn't sure how long it had been since Cragen had called and he, Munch, and Fin had raced to the hospital. It felt like they'd been here forever, anxiously awaiting news.<p>

One of the DEA agents had given them an update on Alex. Even though SVU wasn't on the case, Hammond had told his people to keep them in the loop.

From what the doctors had said, Alex suffered a Grade 1 concussion three days before. During the raid today, she experienced a secondary, Grade 1 or Grade 2 concussion and then immediately afterward, had been in the vicinity of an exploding M84 Stun Grenade.

The swelling in her brain would go down on its own, provided that Alex stayed on bed-rest for a few days and did not over exert herself for a week or two after. Her doctor wanted to keep her for observation for at least 48 to 72 hours, but said that she could be released after that into the care of a friend or family member, who would have to watch her over the following week for any signs of complications or relapse.

Olivia's injuries were a little more complicated. The bullet had entered her left thigh and traveled up her body to strike the pelvic bone. It had fragmented on impact with the bone, scattering fragments in her upper leg and buttocks. The surgeon said he was going to remove the bigger pieces before closing the wound, but chasing the smaller fragments could end up causing more damage than simply leaving them in.

She had lost a lot of blood between the warehouse and the hospital and needed a transfusion. When the doctor came into the waiting room and asked if any of them were A+ and could donate, Elliot got to his feet without a word. That was more than an hour ago.

Finally – _finally_ – the surgeon came out into the waiting room. "Olivia Benson's family?" he asked.

Elliot nodded. "I'm her next of kin," he said hoarsely. It wasn't technically true, but he _was_ her emergency contact. There was no point in saying they weren't related; Elliot didn't want to think what he would do if they said they couldn't release any information just because none of them were her blood relatives.

"She's out of surgery and stable," the doctor said. "I'm having her moved to a recovery room; she's sedated for the night, but by tomorrow morning you should be able to talk to her."

"And you think she'll make a full recovery?" Elliot asked, his voice tight with worry.

"It's going to be a long road," the doctor replied. "Because of the location of the injury, it will be several weeks before she will be able to stand or even sit without pain. But with time and physical therapy, yes, the odds are good that she will make a full recovery."

"Thank God," Elliot whispered, tension flowing out of his shoulders. "Can I see her?" he asked.

The doctor nodded. "I'll take you to her room."

* * *

><p>Alex hated this. She was in a room with two nurses and Laura Covington, the DEA investigator. For the past hour, they had been taking pictures of every bruise, every scrape, and every cut. They had brushed her hair to collect particles onto a sheet of paper. They had scraped under her fingernails. They had examined every inch of her. They'd drawn blood to test for STDs and they had collected a urine sample to see if she had been drugged. Then they had taken a hair sample to see if she had been drugged with anything that might not show up in the urine analysis.<p>

Alex hated every minute of it. The click of the camera made her jump and the sharp flash hurt her eyes. She wanted it to stop. She just wanted all of this to stop.

But it didn't. Evidence needed to be collected. So Alex bore it, her fingers clenched around the edge of the exam table. The only thing she refused was the gynecological exam. _That_ she couldn't take.

When they finally put the camera away and the nurses left, Alex slid off the exam table, keeping her back to the wall. She was still dressed in nothing but a hospital gown. "Are we finished?" she asked.

"Yes," Laura said. "You've done great."

Alex turned her face away and said nothing.

"You have some people waiting for you out there," Laura supplied. She had mentioned it earlier, to see if Alex wanted to take a break after being seen by the doctor – to see some familiar faces before starting the next stage of evidence-gathering. Alex had sighed and said that she would rather get the exam over with. She checked her notepad, where she had jotted down the name of every person she'd talked to today. "Judge Donnelly is here – from what I heard, she left in the middle of a hearing when she got the message. Jack McCoy and Arthur Branch are here from the DA's office. The entire SVU squad got to the hospital about three minutes after you did this afternoon. Dr. Wong and their new ADA, Casey Novak are with them. I know you probably feel very overwhelmed right now, but it might help to see a familiar face.

Alex's expression was stony, but there was a twitch in her jaw. "I don't want to see them," she said flatly. "I can't." She looked back at Laura. "Is Olivia out of surgery yet?"

"I'll check for you," Laura said, ducking out of the door and heading toward the nurse's station. A minute later, she ducked back in. "She's out of surgery and doing well. They got most of the bullet fragments out and say that she should make a full recovery," she relayed.

"I need to see her," Alex said. There was a desperate pleading note in her voice that she couldn't disguise.

One of the nurses returned with a wheelchair. Alex knew that she had a room waiting for her somewhere – the doctor wanted her to stay for observation for a few days, to make sure that the swelling went down some before she was released. Alex sat down. She hated being in the wheelchair, but it was hospital policy. Also, although Alex would never admit it, her head ached fiercely when she stood and when she walked. Maybe there was a good reason for the wheelchair.

She tugged uselessly at the hospital gown; it barely came to her knees when she was standing and now, sitting down, she had to keep her legs closed tight together to avoid exposing herself to anyone in front of her. The nurse noticed her frustration and handed her a blanket to drape over her legs.

Once out in the hallway, Alex found that she could barely breathe. There were too many people around: patients, nurses, doctors, and families… the halls were busy. She twisted her hands in her lap. Her heart jumped every time someone walked past her. It didn't matter if they were male or female, young or old, if they walked close to her or on the far side of the hallway – Alex did want to be near anyone. She didn't want to see anyone.

Laura noticed her discomfort and moved around so that Alex had the wall on one side and the DEA agent walking beside her on the other. "Olivia's room is just up ahead," Laura said. "She might still be sedated from the operation, but you should be able to sit with her for a while."

Alex nodded, her throat tight.

They turned the corner. "Stop!" Alex cried, throwing her hands out to the side and grabbing the wheel rails to bring her wheelchair to a halt. She was trembling, visibly shaking from head to foot. Her eyes were fixed on a man who had just come out of one of the rooms and was walking away from them, heading to the elevator at the other end of the hallway. "_Who is that?_" she asked, breathless. "That's not– It can't be–"

Laura followed Alex's gaze, catching sight of Elliot Stabler. "He survived the shooting the night you and Olivia were abducted," she answered, "but was taken into witness protection. They were worried that Zapata might come after him again if he thought Detective Stabler could identify the shooters."

"Oh my God," Alex whispered as the words slowly sunk in. "And he's been back in New York since…?"

"Since Homicide fished Zapata's body out of the river," Laura finished.

Alex hugged her arms tight across her chest. This was too much. It was all just too much to handle. The nurse wheeled Alex into Olivia's room, the room Elliot had just left.

Alex breathed easier the moment she saw Olivia. The brunette was fast asleep, propped on one side. The blanket was pulled up to her chest, but Alex could see the bulky bandages that swathed her left side from hip down to mid-thigh. The IV dripped steadily, flowing through a needle into Olivia's arm. Monitors clipped on her fingers fed to a computer, and more wires snaked under the hospital gown to connect with sensors taped to her chest.

"Can I stay here with her for a while?" Alex took the wheels at her side and rolled herself toward Olivia's bed.

"Sure," the nurse replied kindly. "There's a chair on the other side of the bed if you want to get out of the wheelchair; just try to avoid standing and walking around if you can. I'll come back and check on you a little later."

"Thank you," Alex said. She turned to Laura, "I can at least get started on giving my statement tomorrow, if you want. I just don't think I can do anything else today."

"I understand," Laura replied. "I'll see you tomorrow. And don't hesitate to call me if you need anything – my cell phone is always on." Then she and the nurse left, leaving Alex alone with Olivia.

Alex scooted closer to the bed and reached to brush Olivia's hair back from her face. "Oh, Liv," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "it's over. We're safe now." Her eyes stung and started to overflow, a trail of tears slipping down her face. "You're going to be okay. We're both going to be okay." She could taste the salt of her tears as the corners of her lips turned up in a smile. "And Elliot's alive! I know you're going to be so happy to see him when you wake up." Alex rested her forearm on the side of the bed and leaned her head down. "We're safe now," she repeated. "We survived. And we're going to be alright." Face-to-face with the sleeping detective, Alex felt at peace for the first time in this whole long, chaotic day. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

Before long, Alex was fast asleep, her head inches from Olivia's, their hands locked together. When the nurse came back to check on Alex two hours later, that was how she found them.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>I do love getting **reviews **from all of you! They make me happy! And for now I seem to be on a roll with regular updates. We'll see how long I can keep this up! And I will pick up working on _Revenge _again soon. So for anyone who's been reading that one too - I haven't forgotten it. :)


	28. Chapter 28

**Friday, December 19, 2003**

It was early evening when Elizabeth Cabot heard the door open. "I'm here," a cheerful, male voice called.

A wide smile brightened her face, crinkling the crow's feet that framed her deep blue eyes. "I'm in the kitchen, Robert," she called back. She brushed back a wisp of shock-white hair, tucking it behind her ear. There was a rustling sound as the young man shrugged off his snow-covered coat and hung it up in the hallway.

"That smells fantastic." Robert inhaled deeply as he walked into the kitchen. Elizabeth had just opened the oven to check the temperature of a beef brisket piled high with vegetables. It wasn't quite done yet.

"Good. You'll be taking most of it home with you." she replied. Her hand groped the countertop beside her until she found the carton she was looking for. She slid out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply. Seeing Robert's disapproval, she shrugged. "It's only the third one today. I'm doing better."

"You shouldn't be smoking at all," he replied. "You'd think a heart attack would be reason enough to quit."

"Psht," she waved him off. "I have been smoking these since the 40's; you think a little thing like that is going to make me change my ways?"

"My mom smoked just as long as you, and she quit two years ago."

"Let me tell you, kid, your mom is the one who got me started on these." Elizabeth took another long draw. "Who do you think was the bad influence back in our Princeton days?"

"The way I always heard it, you were," he quipped.

Elizabeth shrugged. "She might have a point there. But not in this case – this time it was all her fault."

"I'll let her know you say so." Robert circled the kitchen, opening and closing the drawers with familiarity as he gathered everything needed to set the table. "But if you have another heart attack and my mom finds out you were smoking again, they'll banish me to all the way to Jersey instead of just East Amherst. And you wouldn't want to be responsible for landing me out there, would you?" He looked so charmingly desolate that Elizabeth laughed and snuffed out her cigarette in the ash tray.

"Fine, fine. Why don't you go find a good bottle of wine in the cellar? That's supposed to be good for an old lady's heart, right?"

When he came back, Elizabeth had the brisket on the counter. "Good. We'll just have a glass while this rests a minute." He poured for both of them and Elizabeth leaned back against the counter, sipping appreciatively. "So how long do your parents want you to stay out here?"

Robert shrugged. "Until after the election next fall, if my dad has anything to say about it."

"You can't stay here _that_ long," Elizabeth protested. "A boy like you is going to die of boredom around here. And everyone you know in Albany is going to be asking questions. A young man doesn't just up and leave his practice for a year without a good reason."

"I have a reason – or an excuse, at least," Robert inclined his head toward her. "My dad just tells everyone that I am being noble, sacrificing a year of my career to look after an elderly family friend."

Elizabeth glared at him. "You watch it with that 'elderly' talk," she blustered jokingly.

Robert shrugged. "Really, he's worried he'll lose the conservative base if anyone finds out he has a gay son. You're just the convenient explanation for why I'm away from the capitol."

Elizabeth tsked. "He's a fool," she said shortly. "I always told your mother she could do better." Robert looked uncomfortable. "I mean, what does he think you're going to do? Just because you finally decided to come out of the closet, you're going to show up at one of his rallies and what? Have sex with one of his aides on the stage?"

"Elizabeth!" Robert protested, shocked.

She smirked. "Who knows? That might actually give him a boost in the poles."

"Stop it." He was blushing now, a fine shade of red creeping up from under his collar. "It's nothing. He thinks if I spend enough time out here in the wasteland, I'll just get over this whole 'being gay' thing."

Elizabeth snorted at that. "Honey, your mom and I knew back when you were dancing around with Alex's feather boas and your mom's high heels. You had the sweetest little crush on that boy in your class – what was his name? Michael? Matthew?"

"Micah." Robert was beet red to the tips of his ears now. "I think the meat's rested long enough now," he muttered. "Go sit and I'll bring it over."

"Oh, now don't be upset with me," Elizabeth said.

"I'm not." Robert carried the brisket to the table and started slicing it.

The phone rang. Her whole life, Elizabeth had had strict rules against anyone answering their phone during dinner time, but in the last two months, she had lunged for the phone every time it rang – day or night, not matter what she was doing.

She grabbed the wall phone. "Hello?"

"Is this Elizabeth Cabot?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"Mrs. Cabot, I am Agent Hammond with the Drug Enforcement Agency. I have some good news for you."

Robert watched as Elizabeth's hand tightened on the phone, her knuckles turning white. The older woman listened, breathless, to the voice on the other end. "I'm getting in the car now. I'm 7 hours away, but I'll be there as soon as I can. What hospital?"

When Elizabeth turned back toward him, her face was pale but her beaming smile stretched wide across her face.

"What's going on?" Robert asked.

Her answer was one word. "_Alex!_"

Dinner was forgotten in an instant; they rushed into the foyer. Robert grabbed their coats out of the closet and fumbled in his pockets, trying to find his keys. When he looked up, he saw Elizabeth grimacing, one hand pressed over her chest. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she panted. "Let's go."

They crunched through the snow to his car. Elizabeth groaned as she slid into the passenger seat.

"We should go to the hospital," Robert said uncertainly.

"We _are_ going to a hospital," Elizabeth snapped. "St. John's, in Queens, where Ale–" she gasped, her breath coming in short spurts. "Where my Alex is."

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday, December 20, 2003<strong>

Olivia woke up confused and disoriented. The bed beneath her was thin and hard, the sheets stiff and rough, and the blanket thin. Her eyes still closed, she reached forward, her hand searching by reflex for the woman who had shared a bed with her for more than two months. But instead of Alex's warm body, she found the cold metal rails of the hospital bed.

She opened her eyes then. Sunlight was just beginning to peak through the window and she could see the skyline of the city. An IV fed into her arm and sensors taped to her chest fed into the monitor next to her bed. She was alone.

As soon as one of the nurses realized Olivia was awake, they paged her doctor. By the time he showed up, Olivia had eaten breakfast and was trying, without much success, to sit up.

"You shouldn't be doing that," a voice said from the doorway. Olivia jumped at the sound and then winced at the sudden burst of pain. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Dr. Alredo," he introduced himself. "But it's best if you stay either on your right side or laying on your front."

"I got shot?" Olivia wasn't sure if she was asking or making a statement. She couldn't remember very much after the gunshots had started upstairs and Raul's men had come down to the basement.

Alredo nodded. "The bullet entered in your left thigh, traversed through the gluteal muscles, and lodged against your pelvic bone. We removed most of the fragments during surgery, but you still might set off metal detectors at the airport."

Olivia tried to force the expected smile at his joke. "Great," she said. "How is Alex?"

"She's fine," he assured her, "I spoke with her doctor this morning – they're keeping a close eye on her concussion, but she'll be able to go home in a few days. You, on the other hand…" He sat in the chair next to her bedside.

As they talked, Olivia felt her heart sinking. The bullet had struck her pelvic bone with some force, causing hairline fractures. They expected that she would be able to sit in bed with the backrest by the end of the week, but would be on bed-rest for at least a month – maybe more – before she could think about standing or walking with crutches.

By the time Alredo had finished explaining the details of her injury and what she should expect as far as treatment and recovery, Olivia was on the verge of tears. "Anything else I need to know about?" she ground out.

"Yes," the doctor said slowly. He shifted back in his seat, crossing his legs. Olivia narrowed her eyes. This was the body language of someone who didn't want to talk. "We drew blood yesterday before taking you in for surgery to confirm your blood type before starting the transfusion. We went ahead and ran a basic panel of tests – for STDs, any infections, pregnancy, etc."

Olivia closed her eyes. She tasted iron and realized she'd been anxiously gnawing at her bottom lip. "What is it?"

"Well, you did test positive for one STI: Trichomoniasis. It's a very common infection and easily treated with antibiotics, so you shouldn't worry much about that."

"And…?" Olivia could hear that there was something else he hadn't said yet.

"And," the doctor sighed, "the pregnancy test came back positive as well. I heard a little bit about your case from the police who brought you in and I know that–"

"You know _nothing_." Olivia spat, cutting him off. Alredo stopped and didn't say anything else, waiting for her to speak.

_Alex knew_, Olivia thought. _She saw the symptoms. She tried to tell me. I didn't want to listen – I didn't want it to be true. _A wave of anguish crashed over her. _It _can't_ be true! I can't… I can't do this… I can't deal with this…_

She felt a twisting, sinking feeling in her gut. "Get it out of me," Olivia said. Her voice was flat. "I don't want it. Take it out."

"There are some complications – "

"I don't _care_!" Olivia's voice rose and she was aware that she sounded hysterical. "You listen to me – I am _not_ carrying a rapist's bastard in me. So either tell me that your damned test was wrong, that you screwed it up somehow, or get this thing out of me now!"

* * *

><p>When Agent Covington arrived at St. John's on Saturday morning, she brought new clothes for Alex. "I guessed your size," she said as Alex pulled the clothes out of the bag. "Figured you'd like these more than hospital gowns or anything they have in the giftshop."<p>

"Thanks," Alex said.

"I'll give you a minute to get changed," Laura said, "and then we can get started."

The clothes Laura had brought were simple; Alex knew that the investigator had spent her own money on this – buying clothes for victims was not in any department's budget. Alex knew well what kind of pay law enforcement officers received and she felt a little awkward about accepting the gift. But the prospect of new, clean clothes – especially things as simple as cotton underwear in unopened Fruit-of-the-Loom packaging – was too tempting to resist. The jeans were a size too big and hung loose on her hips, but the long-sleeved shirt was warm and snug. She set aside the tacky, touristy "I heart NYC" sweatshirt; the hospital was kept at a comfortable temperature. A smaller bag, one provided by the hospital, held a toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb, and deodorant.

Alex pulled her hair back into a simple ponytail and looked in the mirror. The person staring back at her did not look like the Alex she remembered. She had always been pale, but two months without seeing sunlight had left her porcelain skin ghostlike, almost translucent. Her eyes were shadowed and haunted, and – though the swelling had gone down significantly since Tuesday – her left eye was ringed by a purple, yellow-tinged bruise. The mottled bruises on her neck were mostly covered by the mock turtleneck shirt, but some of the dark fingermarks peeked out, crawling up her throat. Alex gingerly traced the cut that ran along her right cheekbone, prodding it softly with her fingers. Three small butterfly bandages held the edges of the tattered skin together. With luck, it would heal cleanly and not leave a scar.

There was a knock at the door and Alex heard Laura's voice call through. "Come in," Alex answered. No matter the stranger in the mirror, Alex felt a little more like her old self: a little less naked and a little less afraid.

Alex seated herself next to the window, where she could feel the warm sunlight on her skin. Laura pulled over another chair and set a tape recorder on the table. "Let's start at the beginning," she said.

It was difficult and Alex's answers were halting – short, clipped, emotionless responses to the questions Laura asked. It was painful, dredging up memories of the past two months. Alex had managed to get through it by living in the moment, trying not to dwell on or think about what was happening. Trying to rifle through her memory and answer Laura's questions meant remembering things she'd rather not remember.

Zapata was already dead, so detailing everything he had done wouldn't do anything to help the case against Raul and other cartel members. At some point, Alex would have to give a more in-depth account of the torture he'd inflicted on her, just not today, not right now. Nonetheless, covering that first month still took hours. Laura wanted to know details, not just about Zapata, but about the men who worked for him. Alex felt useless in that respect – she had never paid much attention to Zapata's peons. There were too many of them and Zapata had been so possessive that none of his men had ever posed a direct threat to her. "Sorry," she apologized after a dozen questions she couldn't answer, "I just don't remember."

"That's alright," Laura said, but Alex could see the disappointment on her face. "You're doing fine. How about when Raul took over? Do you know what happened? What caused the change?"

Alex swallowed hard. She could remember the feel of Zapata's hand tight around her arm as he dragged her toward the stairs. _"No!" Olivia had screamed, her voice echoing in Alex's ears. "ALEX! Alex!" But Zapata had been unrelenting, forcing Alex up the narrow stairway. When he opened the door and found Raul there, he stumbled back a step, off balance._

"Yes," she said softly. "Some of it I saw and the rest, the details of why… Raul told me later."

"Can you walk me through it?"

"He was in trouble with Veléz," Alex started, "for bringing too much attention to himself by killing Livia Sandoval and then for abducting Olivia and me. Between Veléz and the police looking for him, he knew that he was boxed in." She took a deep breath. "He made a deal with FARC. He was going to leave the country, go back to Colombia and work for FARC." Her voice dropped, "He agreed to give me to FARC as a hostage in exchange for protection from Veléz. But Veléz found out, and on the day Zapata was supposed to take me to Colombia, Raul was waiting for him, to see if he'd really do it.

"Raul shot him," she said plainly, "in the chest." _Hot blood sprayed over her. Zapata's corpse tumbled and his death grip on her arm pulled her down too. Alex slid down about six steps before managing to stop her fall. The stairs were slick with blood and a fine pink mist hung suspended in the air. _Ale turned away, staring out the window as she finished, "and then he sent me back to Liv's and my room." She crossed her arms over her chest, absentmindedly rubbing her arms. The temperature hadn't changed, but she felt cold.

"You're sure Raul shot him himself? You saw Raul pull the trigger?"

"Yes."

"Was that the first time you'd seen Raul?"

"Yes, I think so." Alex sighed. "Can we take a break?" They had been at this for several hours now.

"Sure," Laura glanced at her watch. The hospital staff would be coming by with lunch for Alex soon anyway. "You want to take a couple hours and I'll come back around 2?"

"That's fine."

As soon as Laura was gone, Alex got up and walked to the nurses' station. "Excuse me," she asked, "what room is Olivia Benson in?" She couldn't remember the number she'd seen when she went to visit Olivia the previous night.

"Let me check for you," the nurse replied.

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimers:<strong> I mentioned Fruit of the Loom. I don't own it. I don't make money off of it. I also mentioned St. Johns, which is a real hospital in Queens, NY. I don't own it. Don't have any connection to it.


	29. Chapter 29

Olivia twisted in the narrow bed. After lying on her side for hours, she was just plain uncomfortable. She tried resting on her stomach, but that made her neck sore after a while. Finally she managed to position herself so that she was reclining mostly on her back, but with her left side propped up on pillows. The remote control at her side let her raise the back of the bed up a little. She ground her teeth in frustration. It was going to be a week – _a whole week – _before she'd be able to sit comfortably. She hated it. She hated the helplessness of being restricted by her body's own limitations. She hated being on morphine; after talking with the doctor, she had spent most of the morning drifting in and out of shallow, nightmare-filled sleep.

She didn't want to think about what the doctor had said about the other part – about being pregnant. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want it to be real. It was too much to process. She didn't think she could handle it.

It was too much. It was all too much.

But when she saw Alex in the doorway, nothing – not pain, discomfort, exhaustion or the news that she was pregnant with a rapist's child – could stop the smile that spread across her face. "Alex!"

"Hey." Alex crossed the room to Olivia's bedside. She soothed Olivia's hair back and cupped her cheek gently. Olivia's warm eyes were alight, following Alex's movement. "How're you feeling?"

Olivia reached up, taking Alex's hand and holding tight as Alex sat on the edge of her bed. "Kind of rough," Olivia replied. Physically, she wasn't feeling too badly. The morphine kept most of the pain at bay; she was uncomfortable and restless, but not in pain. Her real suffering wasn't physical. "You?"

Alex's blue eyes glistened as she pressed her lips to their clasped hands. "I'm fine."

"Are you?" Olivia's eyes narrowed in challenge.

Alex's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "No. No, I'm not."

"Me neither." Olivia sighed. She was glad to see Alex. It was one thing to hear from someone else that she was alright; it was another thing to see her in person. "You were bleeding, though." She reached up, indicating. "Did they say what that was? Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes." Alex was amazed that Olivia remembered anything at all from the day before. "Yeah, they said I had a bad concussion that was aggravated by the SWAT team throwing that stun grenade into the room. I have to take it easy for a week or two, but the doctor said I'll be able to go home in a day or two."

"Really?" Olivia felt a pang at the idea. "That's… soon."

"I know." Alex's chest was tight with anxiety. She was supposed to feel happy about going home. It was supposed to be a good thing. But she could barely handle the trip from her room to Olivia's – just those few short hallways and that elevator held more people than she had seen in months. And that proximity to so many strangers terrified her. Would one of them attack her? If they brushed against her or passed to close, was it an accident or a threat? When they looked at her, did they see everything that had happened? Did they know what she had done – what depravity she had submitted to in order to survive? Alex shuddered. The idea of even walking outside scared her. There were too many people, too much open space, and too many potential threats hovering around.

"Are you okay with that?" Maybe it was selfish, but there was a part of Olivia that didn't want Alex to leave. "Have you talked with your Rape Crisis Counselor about them sending you home so soon?"

"What?" Alex looked puzzled. "I haven't…"

"The detective on the case didn't send an RCC to talk to you?"

Alex shook her head. After working with SVU for several years, Alex thought she knew the process for rape victims. But the district attorney's office usually didn't get called in until after the initial detective's reports were made, so Alex wasn't as familiar with how things were supposed to work at this stage.

"And the psychiatrist on call didn't meet with you?"

Alex shook her head again. "No. Why? Have you talked to anyone?"

"No," Olivia said, "but I just woke up this morning. After I talked with the doctor I said I didn't want to see anyone." There was an angry bite in her tone as she continued, "I _assumed_ that whoever had our case would be following _basic_ protocol." She was agitated, trying to twist around in bed. Alex was worried that she'd hurt herself, moving around like that.

"Olivia, calm down," Alex urged, her voice strained. "It's alright."

"No, it's not!" Olivia snapped. "What idiot is running this investigation?"

"The DEA has the case still. I've been talking to one of their investigators, Laura Covington."

Olivia's brow furrowed in exasperation. "DEA? _Why?_ They never deal with victims – they don't have the first idea how to handle someone who's not a junkie or a dealer."

"She seems like she knows what she's doing." Alex didn't know why she felt like she had to defend the DEA agent. Laura might not have a lot of experience with rape victims, but she had been professional, caring, and efficient in all her interactions with Alex.

"Alex, getting a counselor in to talk to the victim or at the very least _referring _them to a counselor or to the hospital's on-call shrink is…" She sucked in through her teeth. "Let me ask you this – do you feel ready to go home by yourself if the doctors release you tomorrow?"

"No," Alex confessed. She didn't. She really didn't feel at all prepared to face that.

"That's _why_ they should've made sure you had access to a counselor. Right now, it's not just the physical injuries that ought to determine when you should go home. _You_ get a say in this. A counselor is there to listen whenever you're ready to talk, but also to help you know what your options are and how to best take care of _your_ needs – physical _and_ psychological." Olivia reached for the phone at her bedside. "Do you want me to call and get someone out here?"

"No, Liv," Alex placed her hand over Olivia's. "I'll take care of it later." She shook her head, hiding a small smile. Even bedridden in the hospital, Olivia was still trying to run everything, still trying to take care of her. "What about you? You haven't talked to a counselor? You haven't talked to Agent Covington?"

Olivia shook her head. "I woke up this morning, talked to the doctor and that's about it." She nodded toward the IV stand next to her. "I can't give a statement as long as I'm on morphine, anyway."

"Well that's convenient," Alex muttered, her eyes twinkling. "Here I've been getting grilled all morning while you're just taking it easy."

"You call taking a bullet in the ass easy?" Olivia joked.

Alex's face fell and their brief moment of levity dissipated. "You scared me, Liv," she said hoarsely. "God, when I saw the blood… I was so scared that I'd lose you."

"It's OK, Alex," Olivia reassured her.

"You saved both of us," Alex said. "If you hadn't grabbed me… I was so _stupid_, just standing there."

"People freeze up, it happens," Olivia said. "That wasn't your fault."

"And then…" Alex's memory was fuzzy, but she remembered Olivia signaling her to move, remembered how the detective had positioned them both: feet toward the bed and the shooters, heads facing the far wall. Alex's instinct would have been to face the bed and the shooters on the other side of it. Laying the way they had felt counterintuitive; as if it were a more vulnerable position. But if they'd been laying the opposite way… Instead of piercing Olivia's thigh and going into her buttocks, the bullet might have entered at the neck or shoulder and gone into the chest. Alex didn't want to think about it.

Olivia squeezed her hand tight, bringing Alex back to the present. "It's alright," she said. "We're both here, right?"

"And you're okay?" Alex said, eyeing the bandages that wrapped around Olivia's waist and down her left leg. "Or at least you're going to be?"

"I'm going to be." It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Alex what the doctor had said earlier. But she didn't. She wasn't ready to deal with it herself, let alone talk about it with anyone else. She wasn't ready to face the fact that she was pregnant. And if she talked to Alex about it, she would be acknowledging that it was real. Olivia took a deep breath, nodding slowly to herself. There would be time to deal with it later. She could avoid it for a little while longer. "I'll get there."

Around 1pm, one of the hospital staff came by with two lunch trays for them. After lunch, they talked for a while longer, but soon Olivia felt the need for sleep pulling at her again. She tried to stay awake, but her eyes kept drifting closed without her permission. Her body was exhausted, aching with the desire for sleep, even though she had only been awake for an hour or so since her last nap. "'m sorry, 'Lex," she murmured. "It's the meds. They make me… so tired…."

"Sleep, Liv," Alex responded. Olivia felt a cool hand brush her hair back, soothing her as she gave in to sleep. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Olivia rolled onto her side and tucked her hand up under the pillow. After a moment's pause, she felt Alex lay down behind her on the narrow bed.

The detective was wearing a standard hospital gown; it tied behind her neck and again at mid-back. Alex made sure that the sheets were pulled up enough to cover Olivia from the waist down, where the gown hung open. Alex planted a soft kiss on the Olivia's shoulder and rested her head on the pillow, just behind the brunette's. Her hand rested gently atop Olivia's bandages.

Olivia sighed and sank down into the pillow.

_The house in front of her seemed enormous, and Olivia dragged her feet, gripping her mother's hand as they tromped up the walkway. "Do you want to ring the doorbell?" Serena asked. The small figure beside her bobbed her head solemnly and stretched out an index finger to brush the button. She grinned when she heard the ring on the other side of the door and looked up at her mother for approval. Serena smiled back. "Are you nervous, Olivia?" she asked. Her daughter's thick mop of brown hair swayed as Olivia firmly shook her head. Serena placed one hand on the thin shoulders and squeezed gently. "That's good," she said, unsure if she was reassuring herself or her daughter. "They're going to love you." _

_The door swung open. "Mom, Dad," Serena swallowed hard, "this is Olivia. Olivia, give your grandparents a hug."_

"_Well hi there, sweetheart." Olivia clung to her mother as the strange woman bent down, bringing her face to Olivia's eye-level. "Want to give granny a hug?" She was tall, taller than Olivia's mom, with green eyes and a smiling face. A scarf covered her head and the arms that reached out invitingly toward Olivia were thin and wiry. Olivia shook her head. Mrs. Benson straightened. "That's alright, hun. Maybe later. Come on inside."_

"_How old are you, Olivia?" her grandpa asked. His voice was a low, rumble and Olivia offered him a small smile as she raised one hand and spread out her fingers. "Five years old, enh? And this is the first time we get to see your pretty face? I guess you'll be wanting to catch up on five years of birthdays and Christmases." Olivia's eyes widened. _

_Later, after dinner, and after four or five rounds of checkers with her grandpa, Olivia curled up, exhausted, on her grandparents' couch. Their house was big – much bigger than the one room apartment Olivia lived in with her mother. There were two couches and a big, cozy armchair with a reading light hanging over it. An Australian shepherd lolled in front of the fireplace, his ears twitching toward the adults' voices coming from the kitchen. _

_Her stomach full and her eyelids heavy, Olivia wanted nothing more than to sleep. But the shrill sound of her mother's voice roused her curiosity and she pulled herself upright. The dog watched her intently as she slipped across the room and sat on the floor next to the open doorway. The dog got up and came toward her, his tongue hanging from her mouth. Olivia stifled the urge to giggle as he licked her face and settled down on the floor next to her. She ran her hands through his thick fur, feeling how soft it was under her fingers. _

"_I just need to focus on my dissertation, Mom," Serena said, her voice pleading. "It would only be for a semester, maybe a year."_

"_You knew what you were getting into, starting your PhD right after having her," Mrs. Benson replied. "You can't do it all," she said, "having a kid, having a job, trying to finish your degree… it's too much."_

"_That's why I'm here," Serena said firmly. "I'm just asking for some help. She could stay here with you, have my old room. She'll be in first grade next year, so you won't have to worry about her being underfoot all day. And it might be good for her – God knows the schools around here are a lot better than anything in our neighborhood." _

"_Serena, your mother and I aren't..." Mr. Benson sounded exasperated. "We can't take care of a kid right now. We're in the hospital all the time for your mom's treatments; it wouldn't be fair to her to be missing school or shunted off on your mom and I's friends because we have to visit the oncologist."_

"_She'd do fine," Serena said. "It would be good for her to get to know the both of you."_

"_You're not listening, dear," Mrs. Benson said. "We don't have any money right now to provide for a child. Everything we have is going toward medical bills and we're…" she took a breath. "We're probably going to have to sell the house soon and move into something smaller. Neither of us has the energy to take care of the house anymore, let alone deal with that yard out there. I just don't think we can give Olivia the kind of home she needs right now."_

"_But I can't either," came Serena's plaintive cry. "I'm working all the time, just trying to keep food on the table. I can't afford daycare for her all the time. I'm… my adviser is hounding me on my dissertation, saying I should have another chapter done by the end of the month, but I have no time to work on it! I don't sleep, I barely eat – I just can't do this! I can't do it all!" _

"_You should have thought about that before starting your degree," Mrs. Benson said. "You knew what PhD candidates go through. What did you think you were going to do?"_

"_I wasn't going to let that bastard ruin my life! I wasn't going to give up on my career, on my plans, just because of what happened."_

"_No, but you chose to have her and to keep her. And now you have to figure out how to make it work." Mrs. Benson's voice softened. "I know it's hard, Serena. Trying to juggle a child, a career, and your education is rough, no matter what the situation. I wish we could help more, but we just can't take Olivia right now. We can maybe try to help with daycare costs… We can't do much, but we can try." _

_Olivia rested her head on her knees. She bit her lip to hold back the hot tears that burned her eyes. She felt very small, very alone, and very much unwanted. The dog looked up at her, cocked his head, and whined. _

Olivia woke up with tears running down her face. Alex was sitting in a chair next to the head of her bed, her face inches away from Olivia's. "It's alright," she soothed, stroking Olivia's hair. "It's alright. Everything's going to be okay."

Olivia's whole body shook as she sobbed. She reached for Alex and the blonde leaned in, so they rested forehead against forehead. "It was just a dream," Olivia said. "Just a silly dream. I don't know why I'm falling apart like this."

"It's alright," Alex repeated. Olivia's grip on her hand was almost painfully tight as the detective clung to her. "You're allowed to fall apart." She ran the pad of her thumb along Olivia's cheekbone. "What were you dreaming about?"

"Ugh" Olivia swiped her hand across her face, brushing aside the tears. "Just remembering stuff." She rolled her head, breaking away from Alex and staring up, blinking hard. "My mom, my family…" she trailed off as the mention of mothers caused her mind to switch tracks. "Alex, your mom! Have you talked to her? Is she all right?"

Alex nodded. "She called this morning and we talked for a bit."

"Is she coming down to see you?" Olivia was just relieved to hear that Raul had actually called off the hit on Alex's mom; she had had her doubts as to whether or not he would.

"No," Alex said, looking down at her hands. "She's, uh… when the police told her they'd found me, it came as a shock. She had a heart attack last night and is in the hospital up in East Amherst."

"Will she be alright?" Olivia asked, concern etched on her face.

Alex gave a short nod. "She says so. Her doctor wants to keep her for observation for a while, maybe for a week. They say that's normal and she sounds alright, so I don't think it's anything to worry about."

"They're keeping her at the hospital for a week?" questioned Olivia.

"Yeah," Alex sighed, "well, it's her second heart attack in two months, so her doctor wants to keep a close eye on her."

"Second in two months? Oh…" Olivia stopped as realization dawned. "She had her first heart attack when they told her you'd gone missing." Alex nodded grimly, her face downcast. "Alex, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry this happened."

* * *

><p>After Alex left, going back to her room to continue giving her statement, Olivia fell asleep again. Her body needed the rest, she knew that. In the last 24 hours, she had spent more time asleep than awake, and she still felt completely drained. So when Alex left just before 2pm, Olivia gave in to the fact that, for now, she wasn't going to be able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time. She closed her eyes.<p>

_She was back in the warehouse, lying on her back on a cold metal table. There was a fierce, stabbing pain in her stomach and she doubled over, screaming in pain. A lump under her flesh shifted and surged against her hand. It felt like something was ripping her in half. _

_It was like a scene out of _Aliens_. The thing – she didn't know what else to call it – stabbed upward, tearing a gash across Olivia's abdomen. _

_Then Alex was with her, holding her hands, sitting behind her and supporting her. "Breathe, Olivia," she said. "We're going to make it. We can do this. It's going to be okay. Just keep breathing." _

_Olivia tried to scream, to tell her "No! It's not going to be okay!" _

_A bloody hand reached up and Olivia stared in horror as the thing forced the gap open. _

"_Alex!" she moaned, "make it stop. Please, please, just make it stop!" _

_It was all the way out now and it slipped to the side, the umbilical cord still linking it to Olivia. It crawled on feeble limbs, leaving bloody smears on Olivia's skin and slipping against the slick surface of the table. _

"_Alex!" Olivia turned, trying to hide her face from the creature. "Alex, help me," she whispered. _

"_Look at it." Olivia started at the cold voice and looked up. The woman supporting her was no longer Alex, but her mother. "She's your daughter. Look at her," Serena commanded._

"_No," Olivia whimpered, "I can't." But her mother turned cold and stiff, pushing Olivia's arms away from her. Filled with dread, Olivia looked at the thing that had crawled out of her. It looked back at her with wide, brown eyes. _

_She was staring into her own face. _

When she opened her eyes, she was drenched in sweat and making small, chocked, whimpering sounds.

"Olivia?"

She turned her head at the familiar voice. He was sitting in the chair next to her bed, a waiting-room magazine dangling from one hand. Olivia gave a single, harsh sob. The pain meds she was on were more having a greater effect than she had thought – first the strange dreams and now hallucinations.

He looked so real that she thought if she reached out she might be able to touch him. Real or not, she couldn't help but cry out to him. "Elliot!"

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I mentioned _Aliens_. I don't own it, don't profit off of it.


	30. Chapter 30

Elliot looked up, his somber eyes meeting Olivia's gaze. "Liv," he whispered back. "Thank God you're alive."

"'s good to see you, El," she managed. She leaned back, tilting her head back to face the ceiling above her. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of her own breathing."I'm not dying," she said suddenly. There was no answer and she wondered if he had gone.

"I know you're not," Elliot said, sounding a little confused. "What, do you have to be dying for me to be here?"

Olivia lifted her head."I guess not." _I'm not going crazy_, she told herself firmly. _He's not a ghost or the damn Grim Reaper. It's just the drugs messing with my head. It's just a morphine trip. It's normal._ Her eyes searched his.

He looked older, more strained and tense than the last time she had seen him. Olivia remembered that night with sudden, brutal clarity that took her breath away. She remembered the sound of gunshots, the flash of pain. She remembered lying on the sidewalk, her ribs groaning in agony, her face turned toward Elliot. She remembered the smell of blood. Even with her face pressed against the pavement, the smell of gas and car exhaust in her nostrils, she could still smell the blood – _Elliot's blood_.

Olivia's own pulse thundered in her ears and her chest was tight; she could barely breathe past the lump in her throat as the wave of memories struck her like a blow to the chest. She remembered waking up in the basement, tied to the chair. She remembered the deep, overwhelming sense of horror as she and Alex realized what was going to happen to them and how powerless they were to stop it. She remembered the man with the Irish accent laughing, his hands touching her as she struggled futilely against her bonds. _"How 'bout it?" He grinned broadly, unfazed by Olivia's attempts at resistance. "Wanna get fucked by the man that killed your partner?"_

"Olivia? What's wrong?"

Olivia peeled her eyes open. The tears made her eyelids heavy and her vision blurry. He was standing over her, the lines of his face inscribed deep with worry. The steady beeping of the heart-rate monitor beside her sped up, reflecting her terror. "What's wrong? Can you tell me?" he asked gently.

She shook her head, her lips pressed tight together. The memories were too much. Her wide-eyed gaze darted around the room. "No," she breathed. "I can't."

"Do you want…?" Elliot hesitated. "Liv, is it alright for me to be here? Would you rather I go?"

She was silent for so long that Elliot thought she either had forgotten he was there or was ignoring him. He turned toward the door. Only when she heard the sound of the handle turning did Olivia finally say, "Stay."

Her heart ached, seeing him. She didn't want to talk to him; she couldn't find words to talk about anything that had happened. Alex was the only one who could really understand what she was feeling. If she could talk to anyone about what she was feeling, Alex was that person. But even so… Olivia couldn't send Elliot away.

It wasn't fair that it had been him who died. Of all of them, he was the only one at SVU with a stable family, with a loving partner at home and children who needed him. He was never supposed to die. None of this was ever supposed to happen.

"Alright," said Elliot. Olivia watched through tear-blurred eyes as he returned to sit in a chair a few feet from her bed.

She closed her eyes and let her mind drift. She didn't sleep, not really, but she dreamed anyway. There were no nightmares, just flashes of memory from happier times – from before all this happened. Olivia wished for a moment that she could just stay like this. She didn't want to face what had happened. She didn't want to deal with picking up the pieces, with trying to rebuild her life. She didn't think she could bear it.

Even deep in that place between sleep and wakefulness, she was aware of Elliot's presence next to her. She sensed him nearby, a glowing talisman that kept the nightmares at bay. She had no idea how much time passed like that – hours, maybe.

She was so out of it that she didn't give any sign of acknowledgement when one of the hospital staff came in and placed a dinner tray on the table next to her.

She didn't pay attention when the nurses came in to check on her.

And she didn't hear when one of the nurses came to tell Elliot that it was time to leave. But she did hear when his quiet, uncertain voice broke the silence. "Liv," Elliot said, "I have to go soon; visiting hours are over. Can I come back tomorrow?"

Olivia groaned as she returned to full wakefulness. Every inch of her body ached. Her voice caught. She didn't want him to leave; she didn't want to be alone. "Can't you stay?"

Elliot sat back down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Until they throw me out, if that's what you want."

"Thanks," Olivia whispered. She fell silent again.

Elliot settled back in his chair, one leg thrown casually over the other knee as he watched Olivia. His eyes followed the swell and fall of her chest as she drew in one deep, slow breath after another. He caught the way her face tightened, just a little, with pain every time she moved. He knew her. He had always been able to tell what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Now, he couldn't. The magnitude of everything that had happened to her was beyond his ability to comprehend. So he sat there, not saying anything. He was just glad to see her alive and safe.

"I'm sorry," Olivia said quietly, her lips barely moving, "for what happened to you. God, El, your family… "

Elliot shook his head, startled. "They're alright, Liv. Well, no, not really. But we will be." He reached out toward her, but stopped when he saw her eyes widen in fear. "If anyone should be sorry, it's me. I didn't… I had my gun on me, but I didn't… I didn't see there was a threat until too late. I didn't draw fast enough. I wish –" his voice cracked, "I'm so sorry. I would give anything to be able to go back. To stop what happened."

"Yeah. Me too."

Olivia shifted in the thin, metal-railed bed. She wanted to be able to sit up. She hated not being able to move.

"Does it hurt?" Elliot asked. He knew it was a stupid question. Of course a gunshot wound hurt. But he couldn't bear the idea that even now, even after everything she'd endured, that Olivia was still in pain.

"A bit," Olivia admitted.

"The doctor told us that he thinks it'll be about a month before you're back on your feet."

Olivia stiffened. "Yeah. The, um, the doctor hasn't been saying anything else, has he? About… Just, about anything else?"

Elliot shook his head. "Not really. Just the details on your GSW and that he didn't want anybody upsetting you. You remember Agent Hammond, the DEA asshole?" Olivia nodded. "He was pissed; he wants to get your full statement ASAP. He thinks this is just like any other DEA case – make the bust, roll up the scum, file charges and get it done. He wasn't too happy when the doc told him to give you a few days of peace first." Elliot's brow furrowed as her words started to sink in. "Why?" he asked. "Is there something else?"

Olivia swallowed hard. Elliot could see the pulse in her neck beating furiously under the skin.

"Olivia? What is it?"

"I'm pregnant." She felt remote, separated from herself, as if it was another person speaking with her mouth.

"Oh God." Elliot stretched his hand forward, his fingertips brushing the back of Olivia's hand where it rested on the edge of the bed.

Olivia's eyes flew open and her whole body went stiff with shock.

* * *

><p>It was just after 9pm when Alex made her way back down to Olivia's room. After Laura had left, Alex waited until after visiting hours were over. She didn't want to see any more people than she had to, and she especially didn't want to run into anyone that she knew.<p>

She was just down the hall when she heard Olivia scream. It was an ear-splitting cry of sheer terror. One of the nurses jumped up and rushed to Olivia's room. Alex didn't think her feet even touched the floor as she raced in.

Elliot had leapt away the minute he saw Olivia's face contort in fear. He was standing on the far side of the room, looking stunned. Alex ignored him, rushing to Olivia's side.

"Olivia, it's alright." Alex leaned over the bed, her face directly above Olivia's and she spoke in a calm, even tone. "Everything's alright. You're safe. You're in the hospital. I'm here with you. Nothing is going to hurt you." Olivia's screams faded to sobs. She reached up, wrapping her arms around Alex's neck. Alec held her, rubbing smooth circles on Olivia's sweat-soaked back. "It's alright," she repeated.

Olivia clung to Alex, weeping against the blonde's shoulder. "He's real?" she asked in a broken whisper.

Alex realized what had happened and her eyes flashed toward Elliot in anger. Her fierce, icy gaze pierced him, pinning him to the wall as she spoke to Olivia. "Yes," Alex replied. "He's real. Elliot's alive."

When Olivia's crying subsided, Alex eased away. "I'm going to talk to Elliot. I'll be right back, okay?" Olivia nodded. Alex stroked her cheek tenderly. "Give me just a second."

Alex straightened and turned to face Elliot. "Outside," she hissed, pointing toward the hall.

Elliot stumbled forward. He stared at Olivia as he passed her. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes were screwed shut, and her fists clenched, white-knuckled, at the sheets.

Once they were out in the hallway, Alex closed the door to Olivia's room. "What were you thinking?" she snapped. Her blue eyes were alight with fire, burning with anger.

"I thought… I thought she knew…" Elliot was numb. He had never seen Olivia like that, never seen that blind, unbelieving terror in her eyes. It hurt to know that he was the cause of her fear and confusion. "I'm sorry."

"You _didn't_ think," Alex bit back. "You didn't think to find out if anyone had told her, you didn't think to ask her or to talk to her about it. And because you didn't think, you scared her. God _damn it_, Elliot, Olivia has been through more than you can possibly know and then you go in and practically give her a heart attack because you can't _think_ about what this looks like from her perspective. She saw you _die_. She saw you on the ground, bleeding to death! And then you walk in like nothing happened!" Alex's fury in defense of Olivia was frightening to behold.

"I'm sorry," Elliot repeated. "I didn't know…"

"Didn't know what?"

"I didn't know she thought I was dead. I didn't know you would have heard about that."

He had a point, Alex had to concede that much. He wouldn't have any way to know what sort of contact they'd had with the outside world, whether or not they had any access to news. But that didn't mean she was any less angry with him for scaring Olivia. "They gave us a picture of your funeral from the _Ledger_. Elliot, they _taunted_ her with it… that they'd killed you, they killed her partner."

Elliot leaned heavily against the wall in the wide hallway, his hands holding his head. "Oh, God." He looked up at Alex. "Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I don't –"

The nurse peered out from Olivia's room, fixing her eyes on Alex and Elliot. "She wants to see you," she said. "Both of you."

Elliot groaned and looked up. Alex was standing over him, her arms crossed over her chest and an odd expression on her face – the anger was still there, but there was compassion too, and sympathy. "Come on," she said. "Let's go."

Olivia was pale when Alex and Elliot entered the room. She looked tired and frail. "Elliot," she breathed, "how…? How did you…?"

"It's a long story," Elliot said. "But the short of it is Witness Protection."

Olivia nodded slowly. "I'm glad you're alive." She managed a smile, "even if you did damn near scare me to death." Her smile was thin and forced but it was there.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. It seemed to be all he could say. "I didn't mean to… I would never… I'm sorry that I scared you."

"I know," Olivia said heavily. "I know you didn't mean it." She sighed and her eyes shifted to Alex. She reached out to her and Alex took Olivia's hand in hers. Alex's hands were cold and she felt a tingle run through her at Olivia's touch.

"I…" Olivia shook her head. "I don't know how to deal with this. I don't know how to handle any of this." She looked up at Alex with haunted eyes. "There's just too much." Finding out that she was pregnant on top of everything else that had happened was almost more than she could bear. She was starting to feel numb, as if there was so much to process that her mind was just shutting down in overload. And finding out that Elliot was alive – it was wonderful, but it was one more thing to try to wrap her head around. She couldn't do it. She couldn't take it all in. "It's going to take me a while."

Alex nodded. "I know," she said softly. "It's going to take both of us a while. Nobody is expecting us to instantly return to normal." Olivia cocked her head, looking sidelong at Alex. A red flush crept over the blonde's cheeks. "I met with the rape counselor," she muttered, "this afternoon. Whether or not it did any good, at least I have some new platitudes to parrot if you want to hear them." Olivia squeezed her hand.

"Yeah," Olivia said with a sigh. "I just… I need," she took a deep breath. "I need some time to figure this out. It's like... it's all just too much to handle, and I… I don't think I can deal with any of it just yet."

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday, December 21, 2003<strong>

The next day when Elliot tried to visit Olivia, the nurse at the desk told him she had refused all visitors. When Alex came, later that night, she was told the same thing.

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, December 22, 2003<strong>

Monday was the same. Alex called down to the ICU as soon as she woke up. She was told that Olivia was meeting with the doctor and to try again later. When she called back just before lunchtime, the nurse on staff said that Olivia was sleeping and had asked not to be disturbed. Mid-afternoon, Elliot showed up at Alex's door, his shoulders slumped in dejection. He'd come to visit Olivia, he said, but had been turned away before he even got to see her. "Alex," he said, his eyes lost and unfocused. "I don't know what to do! I don't know how to help her."

"Just give her time," Alex replied. She remembered the days just before they were rescued, after their failed attempt at contacting the police. Olivia had been silent and withdrawn then, too. And she'd barely had a chance to start coming out of her shell before they were rescued and their whole world turned upside-down again. So much had happened in the past week, Olivia's disengagement from everyone and everything around her wasn't surprising. "Sometimes she just needs her space. She'll let us know when she's ready for help."

He wanted to stay after that, to talk to Alex, but Alex turned him away, just as she had with all of her other friends and former colleagues who tried to visit her.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday, December 23, 2003<strong>

Alex was stressed and tense. She hadn't seen Olivia in three days. For three bleak, empty days she had been patient. She knew that Olivia needed some space, needed some time to work through everything that was happening. Alex could understand Olivia's desire to curl in on herself, to try to block it all out. Alex couldn't help but feel a little of the same. It was overwhelming, the changes they had to face now.

Somehow in the two longs months of captivity, they had both grown accustomed to the loss of freedom. They had gotten used to the smallness of their world – to the small haven of their room, where they had each other, and to the violence that threatened them anywhere outside that room. They had forgotten the feel of the sun or the look of open sky. They had adapted to the loss of friends and family, to only having each other to speak to, to rely on.

And now, in the matter of a very few, short days, their world was large again. Old friends were calling the hospital, trying to talk to them, wanting to know that they were alright. Alex still avoided seeing any of them – she didn't think that she was ready to face any familiar faces quite yet. Alex's family called constantly – not just her mother, but her extended family as well. Alex was very glad that her room didn't have a direct telephone number – her family had to call the nurses' station and ask to be put through. It helped, to have that little bit of power to screen the calls. Alex eagerly accepted calls from her mother, but she wasn't ready to handle talking to all her cousins, aunts, and uncles yet.

Laura came every day with more questions, wanting to know more details. Alex answered question after question, her voice weary and numb as she dredged through nightmarish memories. Alex felt like it was torture, asking her to go through her story over and over and over again. She felt unspeakably weary, tired down to her bones. Every time she dug into her memories to answer one of the investigator's questions, it seemed like her skin was being ripped from her body, leaving her naked, raw, and in pain. She hated this and she hated that she herself had done this with victims before, asking them to tell their stories over and over, with every little detail, just so that they would be ready by the time they took the witness stand. When she could answer no more questions, Alex said stop, and Laura left, only to be replaced by the rape crisis counselor. Talking with her was like pouring alcohol on the raw wound – it hurt and sometimes it was all Alex could do not to scream that she just wanted to be left alone. But it helped. Little by little, it helped.

The hospital felt overwhelmingly large and busy. Every time Alex stepped into the hallway to try to visit Olivia, she saw more people in an instant than she had in the past two months combined. It scared her, seeing so many people. Her whole frame of reference had shifted since last she had been a free woman. Now, every person she saw was a potential threat. Olivia was the only one, the only person she felt truly safe around. Alex sat next to the window sometimes and looked out through the glass at the bustling city around them. There were so many people. She wondered if she would ever feel safe again.

So when Olivia said that she needed time, she needed a little bit of space to try to process everything, Alex understood. She could understand what Olivia was going through, but that didn't mean that she missed her any less. Alex could wait and was willing to give Olivia all the time and space she needed, but still she hoped that Olivia would come back to her soon.


	31. Chapter 31

**Continuity/Canon comment** - OK, so when I started this story, I listened to that scene from Loss a dozen times and couldn't make out where they said Alex's mom lived. But in the last couple days I looked up some transcripts that said she lived in East Amherst. So, I've gone back and changed that - I just put her in Ithaca because I looked at a map of NY and picked a spot. So if you see East Amherst in this chapter and are wondering why the change, that's why.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday, December 23, 2003<strong>

On Tuesday evening, Elliot tried again. He left his home and drove to the hospital, hoping that he would be able to see Olivia. Cragen had told him to stop pushing, that Olivia would let them all know when she was ready to see them, but Elliot couldn't help it. He needed to see her. He needed to be there for her. He had failed her – he had failed to protect her that night back in October and he had failed to find her when he came out of Witness Protection. He needed to make up for that – he had to be there for her now.

But still, when he stopped at the nurses' station and said "I'm here to see Olivia Benson," he was surprised when they smiled and waved him toward her room. He knocked softly on the door, his knuckles just barely tapping it. Olivia must have heard, though, because she told him to come in.

She looked awful, even more haggard and withdrawn than when he had seen her a few days ago. Her eyes were dark and unfocused, and she looked like she hadn't slept in days. Her skin appeared thin and frail, as if even the slightest touch would leave a mark. "Hi, Elliot," she greeted him. She'd had three days to gather her thoughts, to figure things out a little better. She felt a little more confident and sure of herself than she had been last time she spoke to Elliot. He sat down in the chair next to her.

The IV was gone and the monitor was silent; she looked a little more normal without all the wires snaking out from her body. She still wasn't supposed to be sitting up directly, but she found that it was bearable to have the back of her bed raised up, so that she was in a semi-reclined position. The pain had come back in a rush when they started weaning her off the morphine, but it was manageable with strong ibuprofen.

"Hey," he responded. "How're you doing?"

Olivia didn't reply, but she lifted her shadowed eyes to meet his. He saw the answer there. "You didn't tell anyone," she asked, her voice low and uncertain, "about what I told you, did you?"

Elliot shook his head. "Of course not," he said firmly.

Olivia sighed. "Thank you," she breathed in relief.

"Have you thought…?" Elliot hesitated. He knew well that he and Olivia disagreed strongly on a number of issues, abortion being one of them. "Do you know what you're going to do?"

"Have I thought about it? Yes. Do I have any idea what I'm going to do?" She shook her head slowly, gnawing on her lower lip. "I thought I did. When they first told me, I didn't even hesitate, I just told them to do the abortion."

"You're in a Catholic hospital," said Elliot gently, glancing at the plastic "St. Johns" medical bracelet wrapped around her wrist.

"Yeah, I know that _now_," Olivia said dryly. "I wasn't exactly paying attention to the name on the sign when they brought me in. The doctor made it pretty clear though – they can't do the abortion here and he can't refer me to another doctor who will."

Elliot winced. He loved his Church, truly he did. And he even agreed with their doctrine on abortion, most of the time. But it hurt to see how the Magisterium's teachings were applied, heavy-handed, without regard for the woman and her situation – especially when it came to rape victims. And even more especially when it came to Olivia. "Liv, you know I'll support you in anything you want to do. If you want to get an abortion, we can get you transferred to another hospital."

"I can't even sit up right now. I can't get in a wheelchair, let alone sit in a car. And my insurance won't cover an ambulance to take me unless there's an urgent medical need for the transfer." Olivia shook her head. "Besides, Dr. Alredo says he doesn't think I'd be able to have an abortion right now, anyway. Medically, I mean." Of course a doctor at a Catholic hospital, whether he was Catholic or not, could not counsel her on having an abortion in any circumstance, but he had given her several legitimate medical reasons to wait. "I had an ultrasound on Sunday; they think I'm around 9 weeks along. That's pushing right up against the end of when they'll prescribe a medical abortion. So even if I could get transferred to another hospital, they'd probably recommend doing it surgically at this point. And I can't do that so soon after I've just had surgery." She indicated the bandages that wrapped her left leg, buttocks, and hip. "So for now it doesn't matter whether I'm at this hospital or another one; I've got some more time to think about what I actually want to do."

"What do you want?" Elliot asked.

"I don't know," Olivia whispered. "I always thought that… I always told myself that if I was ever raped, I would take Plan B and that would be it. I never thought it would be like this. I never thought what I would do if I couldn't get the morning-after pill. When I first found out, I just wanted it to be over as soon as possible. And now that I've had a few days to think? Now that I've seen it on an ultrasound? I don't…" She choked over the words. "I don't know."

"And then I think about…" Olivia closed her eyes. She had hoped that the crazy dreams would stop once she was off the morphine, but they hadn't – not completely. Every night when she fell asleep, she saw her mother. The dreams changed, but Serena's presence was a constant. And every time she woke up, she felt more and more confused about the decision she had to make. "I don't know. I think about my mom and everything she went through trying to raise me on her own. It wasn't easy for her, but she managed. And it's like… if I get an abortion, it's like I'm saying that she was wrong to have me –that she should have aborted me when she'd had the chance."

"Liv, every woman is different. Your mom made the choice that she thought was best for her. You just have to decide what is best for you." He practically had to bite his tongue to stop the automatic "_and your baby_" from slipping out.

"I know." Olivia sighed. She didn't want to think about this. She didn't want to deal with it. But she didn't have a choice. Sooner or later, she would be healed enough that she could go to another hospital. And she would have to decide what to do about the thing growing inside her.

"Have you thought going your mom's route and having the baby?" Elliot couldn't help but suggest it. He had been good – he said he'd support her no matter what she chose, but that didn't mean he couldn't remind her of other options.

Olivia felt her stomach turn. Just knowing she was pregnant with a rapist's child made her feel wrong, sick, and dirty. It was like being raped all over again, knowing that her body was invaded by someone or something she didn't want. There was something evil inside her and she wanted it out of her as soon as possible.

"I can't do that," she said, horrified. "I can't. Elliot, you have no idea what it's like to live with someone, day in and day out, who is nothing more than a reminder of everything you've suffered. You have no idea what it's like to live with someone who, every time you look at them, you relive the worst moments of your life. I _know_, ok? I know what that's like and I can't do it."

"Is that what it was like for you growing up?" he asked softly, his voice a whisper. "That's how your mother saw you? That's why she drank?"

Olivia's voice was cold. "Everyone has their own way of coping," she said harshly.

"You wouldn't be like that, though." Elliot reassured her. "You'd be a good mom." The look on Olivia's face as her eyes snapped to him told him he'd gone too far.

"Stop," she said. "Don't go there."

Elliot back-pedaled and apologized. Olivia glared at him, but didn't say anything else. Several minutes ticked by in silence.

"Does Alex know?" Elliot asked.

Olivia pursed her lips. "I haven't told her that the doctors confirmed it, but I think she knew already. I… I really don't want anyone to know. I never would have said anything to you if I'd known…"

"If you'd known it was really me," Elliot finished grimly. Olivia nodded slowly.

"Why haven't you talked to Alex about it?"

Olivia sighed. "At first I was just too scared to even believe it was real. And then… El, we've been through a lot – both of us. Once I got over the initial shock of it, I didn't want to burden her more. And I figured that since you already knew, I could talk to you a little."

"You can always talk to me," Elliot promised. "About anything. And whatever you decide, I'll stand by you."

Olivia cracked a smile, one that actually reached her eyes. "You've got my back, partner?"

"Always." Elliot smiled back, a lump in his throat. "You should still talk to Alex," he said. "She's worried about you."

"I will," Olivia said. She let out a long, slow breath. "I miss her," she confessed. "I needed a few days to get my head on straight and to try to figure out what to do about this," she gestured at her abdomen. "But it's been… it's like a part of me is missing, you know?" She shook her head. "And I know how weird that sounds, but it's just…"

"You went through a lot together," Elliot supplied. They'd seen similar cases working at SVU. People who suffered together or were abused together often developed close bonds, brought together by mutual need. They'd seen it with rape victims, victims of sex trafficking, and especially with siblings and relatives in abusive households. "It's understandable that you need each other." His tone was the even, caring voice that he used when speaking to the rape victims they worked with. It was a comforting timbre, but Olivia wasn't used to hearing it directed at her.

"Yeah." Olivia feel quiet, her gaze distant. It felt peculiar, hearing Elliot's perspective. She knew what he was thinking about it and it made her feel strange, somehow. She had seen victims abused together who had offered each other support, who had taken care of each other. She couldn't help but think that what she and Alex had was something different. "But it's something more than that, El. It's… different." She couldn't explain how. "I need her," she said bluntly. "I can't do this without her." Unspoken, she felt different words rising in her chest. _I think I love her._

* * *

><p>Alex had been patient long enough. On Tuesday evening, she decided to walk down and see Olivia. If Olivia still didn't want to talk to her, she would accept that. But she would at least get to see her in person for a moment. One of the nurses recognized her as she walked toward Olivia's room and waved. Alex took that as a good sign – that Olivia was up to seeing people.<p>

Olivia's door was ajar and, as Alex approached, she heard voices. She peaked in and glimpsed Elliot sitting by Olivia's bedside. Alex took a step back from the doorway, pressing her back against the wall. She felt a flash of hurt rush through her. _Olivia's pushed me away, but she's talking to Elliot?_ The fierce pang of hurt was accompanied by a crippling, unexpected jealousy. _Why?_

Olivia was upset, her voice tense and stiff. Alex wanted to comfort her, to rush in and hold her. She couldn't move.

Olivia's words broke over her like ice water. "I can't do that," Olivia said, sounding repulsed. "I can't. Elliot, you have no idea what it's like to live with someone, day in and day out, who is nothing more than a reminder of everything you've suffered. You have no idea what it's like to live with someone who, every time you look at them, you relive the worst moments of your life. I know, ok? I know what that's like and I can't do it."

Alex couldn't hear whatever Elliot said in response; his voice was a low murmur. But she heard Olivia, her voice cold and foreign. "Everyone has their own way of coping."

Alex stepped away from the doorway to Olivia's room. She stumbled and reached out for the wall to brace herself. A nurse started to approach, to offer assistance, but Alex waved her away.

Olivia's words stuck in her head, haunting her as Alex made her way back to the elevator. "_Nothing more than a reminder of everything you've suffered_." _No,_ Alex thought firmly, _Liv wasn't be talking about me. She can't be._ She wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe that Olivia had been talking about something else, someone else. _"To live with someone day in and day out… relieve the worst moments of your life_." Alex felt like her heart was about to explode. It hurt. Deep to her bones, this hurt. Alex thought that Olivia had been pushing her away because she just needed a little bit of space, to wrap her head around the changes that were suddenly taking place.

But that wasn't the case. Olivia had been withdrawn even before they were rescued – ever since Tuesday night when Raul had taken her away and brought her back with no memory of what had happened to her. _Does she really not want me around?_ _Am I really just a reminder of pain and suffering? No, that's not true. That's not true._

Alex felt weak at the knees. She had reached the elevator and hastily pushed the button for her own floor. She didn't want to believe it. She didn't want to think about it. They had been through so much together. They had taken care of each other. They had given each other a reason to live, a reason to keep going. That wasn't 'nothing.' She heard Olivia's voice again, biting cold and untouchable: "_Everyone has their own way of coping." _

"Is that all we had?" Alex whispered to the empty elevator. "A coping mechanism? Is that all it ever was?" That couldn't be right. Olivia had said she loved her.

_But that was before_, a traitorous voice in her head reminded her. _Before you screwed up, before you let Raul see that you were trying to send a message out. Before you let them gang rape her all night long._ Alex shook her head. _You tried to talk to her afterward, remember?_ the dark voice continued, _You asked what she meant. _Olivia had blown her off, saying they would talk about it later. They never had. That recollection left Alex filled with doubt.

The elevator stopped, but not on Alex's floor. She stopped breathing as a large family piled into the small space. A little boy, about 10 years old, turned and asked his mother what floor his uncle was on. The mother told him, and he pressed the button… and then he pressed every other button. Alex pressed herself into the back corner of the elevator, her heart pounding in her chest. She was trapped. She couldn't get out. The small box crept upward, floor by floor.

She didn't speak, didn't move. Her lungs burned and she gripped the metal rails that ran along the back wall of the elevator. Her fingers felt numb and there was a stabbing pain in her chest. Her eyes followed the red number above the door as it slowly counted up, stopping on each floor. _Ding!_ The door opened. One of the men in the family had taken the boy's place next to the control panel. He thumbed the 'close door' button at every stop. _Ding._ The door closed. The floor underneath her shifted.

_Ding!_ They were at her floor. Alex couldn't move without bumping up against someone else. She was frozen. _Excuse me._ She could hear the words in her head, but she couldn't force her mouth to make the sounds. _Excuse me, this is my floor_. The man pressed the 'close door' button and the elevator continued up.

They ascended another five floors before the family got off and Alex could press the button to go back down to her level. She was shaking from head to foot.

When she stumbled out of the elevator and back toward her room, her mind was made up. _I can't do this. I can't stay here_. Olivia didn't want her here. The doctors had told her yesterday that she was ready to go home as soon as she felt able. She couldn't stay in this city alone. Not when just being in an elevator with a few strangers was enough to give her a panic attack.

Alex made her way to the nurses' station and reached for the phone. Her hands shook as she dialed the number for the hospital in East Amherst. She waited while they transferred her to her mom's room.

"Mom?" Alex's voice cracked with strain.

"Alex?" Elizabeth sounded weary and Alex could hear the rustle of movement in the background as her mom sat up. "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

"I can't do this," Alex choked out. "I can't stay in New York; it's too much. I need to get away from here. I want to come home."


	32. Chapter 32

The weeks that followed were the hardest.

When Olivia woke on Christmas Eve, she called up to Alex's room, only to learn that Alex had left the night before. She felt her world cave in on her. For days, she didn't speak and barely ate. Elliot stayed at her side as much as possible. He didn't press her to speak or try to engage her in conversation. There was no comfort he could give her that would ease this pain. So he didn't try. He just sat there, offering the comfort of a friend's presence.

Alex didn't have a cell phone – for that matter, neither did Olivia; both of them had been carrying their phones when they left that bar in October after closing the Zapata case. Just after Christmas, Olivia asked Elliot to look up the phone number for Elizabeth Cabot's house in East Amherst. It was a non-listed number, but Elliot managed to get his hands on it. Olivia called every day, but no one answered.

Another week passed and Olivia welcomed the New Year alone, sitting in a wheelchair and staring out the window at the fireworks over the city. She wasn't in the ICU anymore and was able to sit up by herself. Another two to three weeks, the doctors said, and she would be able to start getting around on crutches.

* * *

><p><strong>January 9, 2004 – New York City<strong>

After New Year's, Olivia found that she couldn't avoid meeting with the DEA investigators any longer. Giving her statement was a slow and painful process. She met with Laura Covington for several hours at a time, every day for a week. At the end of that week, Agent Hammond stopped by with a folder full of photo-line-ups for Olivia to look at.

He knocked at the door to her hospital room. Olivia turned, spinning her wheelchair around to face him.

"Detective Benson, I have just a few more questions for you." He had come by a couple times with Laura, but had mostly just been an observer. Olivia was not exactly comfortable speaking with men and he had respected that.

"Just Olivia," she corrected him. She didn't feel much like a detective anymore, it didn't seem right that he should call her one. "What do you need?"

"I brought some mug-shots for you to look at," he said. "We were hoping you might be able to identify your attackers."

Olivia paled. When she'd given her statement to Laura, she had tried – really tried – to give a description of the men who had raped her. But time had faded the memory of the ones who attacked her early on and by the end she had stopped seeing their faces. Laura brought in a sketch artist, to try to help her, but it was useless. Their faces blurred and melded in her mind, creating a single amalgamated rapist that held attributes of all of them, but didn't exactly resemble any of them.

"Let me see," she said, reaching out for the binder. Her hand trembled. She opened it to the first page. Six Hispanic, tattooed faces stared up at her. There was something about each of them that struck Olivia with fear. But she didn't immediately recognize any of them. She turned to the next page. It was the same thing. A shiver went up her spine. "Can you just show me which ones were members of the cartel and I'll pick them out from there?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," Agent Hammond said, "but you know we can't do that." In the past two weeks, working with and observing Laura's interactions with Olivia, he had learned to set aside his abrasive personality, just a little. Olivia appreciated the effort he put into it. She thought that, if he worked at it, he could learn to work with victims – to go from a DEA agent who just enforced the law to one who really sought justice.

"I know. Worth a shot." She picked up a pen; its tip hovered over the page.

"Just circle anyone you recognize as your attacker and sign next to it."

Olivia turned back the first page. She bit her lip and circled the middle man on the bottom. She signed, a hasty scrawl, and flipped to the second page. Her mouth was dry. She circled one, signed, and moved on.

Hammond took a seat in a chair on the far side of the room and watched as Olivia moved through the thick binder.

It was a long process. On some pages, Olivia didn't recognize anyone. On other pages, two or three stood out and she circled all of them. Beads of sweat broke out on her brow and Hammond could see her fingers turn white as they clenched around the pen.

Olivia wanted to stop. She didn't want to see their faces. She didn't want to look at them. She didn't want to remember. But she pressed on, forcing herself to turn each page, to look at each face. If she had to do this, better to do it all at once.

When she finished, she closed the binder with a thud. The pen slipped from her hand and fell to the floor. Olivia watched it roll. "There was one person who wasn't in here," she commented. In all the pages and pages of mug-shots, there was no photograph of the man who had led the American business of Cesar Velez's cartel for the past month. "Where is Raul? I thought you had him in custody?"

"We do," Hammond assured her. "Mr. Sepulveda's case is being handled."

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday, December 24, 2003<strong>

After Alex spoke with her mom on the phone on Tuesday night, Robert started the seven hour drive to NYC. He picked Alex up from the hospital around 3am and immediately turned around to start the drive back to East Amherst. Alex had known Robert since childhood and he was like a cousin to her, but still she sat stiffly in the passenger seat, unable to relax, sleep, or speak to him for the entire ride. She was glad to see that he was driving her mother's Prius, at least. She thought that if they'd had to stop for gas at a dark station off the highway in the middle of the night, she would have died of fear.

It was midmorning on Christmas Eve when Alex walked into her mother's hospital room. Robert had called to let her know they were close, so Elizabeth was sitting up in bed, waiting for her.

"Alex," Elizabeth breathed. "Oh, my dear, sweet Alexandra." She felt like her heart was about to burst. There were no words to express her joy at having Alex back.

Alex was frozen in the doorway. "Mom," she croaked.

Two heart attacks and months of ceaseless worry had taken their toll on Elizabeth Cabot. There were new worry-lines etched into her brow. Her shoulder-length white hair fanned out on the pillow at her back and her face was devoid of make-up. Her usually-pale skin was so thin and papery that Alex could see the fine blue lines tracing up her arms.

"Come here, sweetheart," Elizabeth beckoned. That was enough. In an instant, Alex was at her side, sitting on the bed with her, her arms wrapped tightly around her mother. Alex was shaking and she could feel her heard pounding in her chest.

A week ago, Raul had ordered her mother killed. A week ago, Alex believed that she would never see her mother again. Even after they'd been rescued, even after talking to her mom on the phone, Alex knew that it wasn't until now that she truly believed her mom was safe.

Elizabeth kissed the top of Alex's head. She could feel the deep, shuddering sobs that overtook her daughter. It didn't matter if Alex was three, thirteen, or thirty-three, she was never too old for Elizabeth to hold her and comfort her while she cried. Elizabeth held Alex tight and her hands moved in a familiar pattern, stroking Alex's hair and rubbing her back. "Shhh," she soothed. "I love you. I love you so much. I've got you. It's alright. It's all going to be alright."

* * *

><p><strong>January 14, 2004 – East Amherst<strong>

Alex and Elizabeth were just coming home from a therapy session when the phone rang. A pained look crossed Alex's face as she strode past the receiver and into the living room. Elizabeth watched her go. It hurt Elizabeth to see Alex like this, living with a pain so deep in her heart that no one and nothing seemed to reach her. Her daughter – her brave, strong, fearless, outspoken daughter – seemed to live in a silent world all her own. Often they would be sitting in the same room and she could see Alex just… disappear. They could be sitting next to each other and it was as if her daughter was no longer there, as if she had vanished to some faraway place. When this happened, Alex was unreachable. The therapist that Alex met with two to three times a week said that this was normal.

The phone was just beginning its fourth ring. Elizabeth snatched it up. "Hello."

There was a slight pause and Elizabeth could hear the person on the other end stumble over her thoughts. "Um… Hello. Mrs. Cabot? This is Olivia Benson. I'm calling to talk to… I need to speak with Alex."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Olivia had left a message on their voicemail every day for the past three weeks. When Elizabeth and Alex came home from the hospital, there had been at least seven or eight messages. Alex listened as far as the first "Hey, Alex, it's Liv," and deleted them all without saying a word. Since then, Alex developed the habit of leaving the room when the phone rang, relying on her mother to erase the messages.

"Olivia." Elizabeth sat at one of the stools next to the breakfast bar.

"I've been calling, trying to get in touch with Alex." After so many endless days of her calls going to voicemail, Olivia found that she didn't know what to say.

"I know." Elizabeth was at a loss for words, something that did not happen to her often. "I'm sorry that this is the first time we've spoken, Olivia. Alex always spoke very highly of you and I know that she's always valued your friendship." She paused and there was a long silence.

"Can I talk to her?" There was a pleading tone in Olivia's voice and Elizabeth found herself glancing toward the doorway to the living room. Alex had turned on the TV and raised the volume to block out any sound of her mother's conversation.

"Olivia, I'm sorry." Elizabeth was sorry. Alex hadn't told her much about their two months in captivity, but Elizabeth knew enough to know that Olivia Benson was suffering at least as much as Alex was. "Alex chose to come home because she needs time to heal; she needs to get some distance from everything that happened."

"But if I could just talk to her…"

"No, Olivia." Elizabeth was kind, but firm. "I know Alex cares for you and that you two have been very close, but Alex needs to do what's best for her. If my daughter says that what she needs is time and space, then my job is to make sure that happens." Her voice softened. "I'm sure that Alex will call you when she's ready. But until then, I'm going to have to ask you to stop calling."

After another long pause, Elizabeth could hear the tears in the other woman's voice. "Alright." Olivia acquiesced. "If that's what Alex wants." She swallowed hard. "Is she doing OK? or… doing better, at least?"

"I think so." She did. Alex was still terrified of being near strangers, but she was less jumpy around the few people she did trust. She spoke freely with her therapist. When she needed comfort, she let her mother hold her. And she tolerated Robert's presence when he came by twice a week for dinner. Alex couldn't stand to go out in public more than she had to and Elizabeth didn't want to leave her alone to run errands, so, in many ways, Robert was a godsend. The three of them had developed their own rhythm. Alex focused on herself, on therapy, on whatever she needed to do to feel comfortable and safe again. Elizabeth devoted herself to Alex, to taking care of her, helping her, and encouraging her. And Robert did everything else – taking care of the yard, the groceries, bringing them movies from the Blockbuster in town, and running any other errands Elizabeth needed.

"That's good then."

"How are you doing?" Elizabeth asked, her voice filled with sympathy.

"I'll survive," was Olivia's only response. "Can you… I don't want to… If Alex doesn't want to talk to me, then… then that's her choice and I'll respect that. But can you ask her to call me as soon as… whenever she feels up to it?"

"I will," Elizabeth promised.

After hanging up the phone, Elizabeth went to the living room and sat down next to Alex on the couch. "I just talked to Olivia," she said simply.

Alex's back was ramrod straight and she didn't look at her mother. "I know."

"Sweetheart, I don't know what happened. I can't imagine what the two of you went through. And I know that, now, you need to focus on doing what's best for you. And if that means you don't want to be in Manhattan or see any of your old friends or talk to anyone that you knew there, then you shouldn't. Plain and simple. There is nothing that you _have _to do right now, no person you are responsible for but yourself."

"I know," Alex said again.

"Whenever you're ready, though, you should call Olivia. It sounds like she misses you." Alex didn't respond. "And I know you miss her."

"I do." Alex faced her mother. Her blue eyes were cold and clear, her face pale, and her jaw set. "But this is not something I want to talk about right now." It was one thing her therapist had repeated over and over again. _"There might be some times you want to talk about what happened. There might be some times that you need to talk to someone who cares for you. But there will also be lots of times that you don't want to talk about it. There will be lots of subjects that come up that you just don't want to or aren't ready to face yet. And just like you can ask your loved ones to listen, to give you a shoulder to cry on when you need it, you can also tell them when you don't want to talk. _You _are allowed to set the boundaries of what you want to talk about and when."_

Elizabeth regarded her daughter carefully. Alex's eyes were steady, with no sign of tears or hesitation. She might have gotten her eyes from her mother, but her steadiness, her icy ferocity mixed with bursts of cold-burning anger, her unwavering stubbornness and shrewd, calculating mind… that, she got from her father. "Alright," Elizabeth said as she reached out, brushing Alex's hair back and stroking her cheek gently.

The gesture was so like Alex's own way of expressing tenderness and love – so like the gesture that she had shared with Olivia on many occasions – that Alex felt a lump rise in her throat. "Thank you."

Elizabeth saw the conflicting emotions flit across her daughter's face and opened her arms. Alex leaned into her, welcoming the embrace. "Whatever you need, you just tell me. I will do anything for you, Alex. Anything," she whispered fiercely.


	33. Chapter 33

**January 31, 2004 – New York City**

Olivia made her way down the hall, supporting most of her weight on the crutches. Finally, after three weeks on bed-rest and another three weeks of rest and physical therapy, she was being released from the hospital.

Elliot walked beside her, carrying the duffel bag of her clothes that he'd brought from her apartment. His usually long stride was shortened to keep pace with Olivia's slow movements. Walking with crutches was still new for her and the swell of her stomach shifted her center of gravity so that it felt like the weight of the child was pulling her to the ground. She could feel the baby move now. It had terrified her initially, but now it was expected, and she actually found herself worrying if she didn't feel it move every so often.

She paused in the middle of the hallway, one hand pressed to her stomach as the baby kicked with unexpected vigor.

It would have been so much easier if the ambulance had taken her to a state hospital. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't wish that she'd woken up in a public hospital and not here. She would have had a simple medical abortion and not have given it a second thought. Being forced to wait made it harder. At first, she had been sure that she would go to an abortion clinic as soon as she was released from the hospital. But with every day that went by, she was less certain about what she wanted, less sure what she should do.

Elliot misinterpreted her stopping in the hall. "Parking garage is that way," Elliot indicated with a grunt. Olivia turned the corner. A sliding glass door opened as she approached and Olivia swung out into the open air. She stopped and took in a deep breath. It smelled like snow, the city, and freedom. She waited for the crosswalk to change before crossing the street toward the parking structure.

Elliot led her toward his battered minivan. Olivia settled into the passenger seat and let Elliot toss the crutches in the back. "You sure you're ready for this?" he asked as he closed the door and buckled his own seatbelt.

Olivia nodded. "I have to go home sometime – might as well be today." They'd argued about it, of course. Elliot was worried about her being home alone right after getting out of the hospital. He'd invited her to stay at their house for a while, but Olivia had refused point-blank. Last week, he'd stayed past visiting hours talking to her – not the first time this happened – and Kathy called his cell phone, demanding to know where he was. _"You should be spending more time with your family,_" Olivia had told him after he got off the phone. _"Kathy's right – they need you._" Elliot was trying, he really was. It had always been a struggle for him to divide his time between work and home, and to divide that time up even more in order for him to visit Olivia three or four times a week at the hospital… it was putting a definite strain on him and his family. "I'll be fine, El."

When they got to her building, Elliot wanted to walk her up to her apartment. "Don't be stupid," she said, reaching behind her seat for the crutches. "You think I want to circle the block with you a hundred times just so you can overpay for a parking space?" She got out of the car and slung her duffel over one shoulder.

"Give me a call when you get in? Let me know you're alright?"

"Sure."

Elliot watched from the car until Olivia was safely inside the building before he drove off.

Olivia took the cramped, rickety elevator to the fourth floor and unlocked her apartment. It felt like forever since she had been here instead of only three and a half months. The place that had been her home for so many years seemed foreign to her.

She made it as far as the living room, dropped the duffel and sank onto the couch. A groan slipped past her lips as she stretched out. The doctors had counseled her against walking too much – they told her to take it slow and not push herself. But if even the small amount of walking she'd done today was "too much" then she knew she had a long road ahead of her.

She reached over, unzipped the duffel, and rummaged through the clothes to find a folder on the bottom. She scowled as she pulled it out. The left side of the folder held all the information that the hospital had given her and several get-well cards from everyone at SVU. The right side was thicker, padded with a clutter of papers and brochures.

There was a handwritten note from Captain Cragen stapled to a business card. _Captain Whittier in Computer Crimes mentioned she has a position open in her unit. She said she'd hold it for you if you want it. Give her a call sometime. _Olivia glanced at the card. She'd call tomorrow and see about when she could start. She needed to get back to work. She needed the income and she needed something to do, something to throw herself into to get her mind off of everything else. But that call could wait at least until tomorrow. She set Cragen's letter aside.

Next was a stack of pamphlets and business cards that Huang had delivered. Olivia had talked to a psychologist at the hospital a couple times, but she would need to get set up with a therapist for regular appointments. Huang had included comments, scrawled in his neat handwriting across post-it notes, pointing out the various strengths and weaknesses of different therapists and styles of therapy. Olivia appreciated the effort he'd put into it. She put that stack aside too.

There were two items left in her folder. Olivia ripped pulled out the sealed, plain envelope and ripped it open, her fingers shaking. She had asked Melinda to help her figure out where to go if she decided to get an abortion. She needed some place discrete and out of the way. Melinda proved just as diligent in her task as Huang had been in his recommendations. She noted a couple clinics in the city, but most of the places on her list were in the suburbs. A few were even in New Jersey. Melinda's list included addresses, phone numbers, and the doctors' names, in case Olivia wanted to call and check them out.

The final item in the folder was not hidden away, not tucked in an envelope where nobody would see or know what it was. It was a stack of brochures for adoption agencies. Two weeks ago, when Olivia had asked Elliot to bring these for her, he had practically beamed. "I'm not saying that this is what I'm going to do," Olivia had warned. "I just want to look into it." Elliot nodded soberly and assured her again that he would support her in any decision she made. She flipped through the brochures, her eyes glancing over them. Most of them were Christian organizations, but Elliot had included a couple from Jewish adoption agencies and one from a group that worked mainly with LGBT families.

It had been a long day and Olivia's eyes felt heavy, even though it was barely 8pm. She set all the papers aside, reached for the remote and flipped on the TV. She laid back and closed her eyes. She and Alex had gotten in the habit of sleeping with the television on in the background. In the hospital, Olivia had tried cutting it off at nights, but found that she couldn't sleep without it. She couldn't take the silence. In the silence, the nightmares were worse. That wasn't saying much though – they were bad enough as it was.

_She struggled, twisting away to try to get out from under him. His body pinned her down, crushing her into the cold, hard floor. He punched her in the face. "Are you done playing games or do you want to keep going?" Olivia went limp. She could have continued to fight him, but she didn't. There was nowhere to go. Even if she managed to away, there was nothing to stop him from grabbing her again. He kissed her. His hand gripped the back of her neck, preventing her from pulling away as his lips crashed against hers. He tasted like rum and cigars. "That's a good girl," he crooned. Olivia hated him. _

_When he was done, he dragged her back to the cell in the basement. Alex was there, sitting on the bed next to the bassinet. A tiny fist protruded from the bundle in her arms. _

"_Alex?" Olivia stepped forward slowly, looking around in confusion. There was a crib next to the bed she and Alex shared and a baby-swing near the little sitting area they had set up in front of the TV. "Alex, what's going on?" Alex looked up when she heard Olivia's voice. Her eyes met Olivia's, but she didn't say anything. "Alex? Talk to me." Alex shook her head. Her voice had abandoned her and all she could do was stare helplessly at Olivia._

_Olivia limped toward her. It hurt to walk and every movement recalled her attention to the sticky wetness that gathered between her legs. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be anywhere. She hated what happened and hated that there was nothing she could do about it. She hated herself for letting it happen. _

_The small person Alex cradled against her started to squirm, kicking its blanket away. Alex stood, bowing her head close and making soft shushing sounds. Olivia was stunned. She had never seen this side of Alex before. The image of Alex with that baby was sweet, tender… beautiful. It seared into Olivia's mind. "Oh, Alex…"_

_Then Alex's head snapped up and she turned toward the doorway, attentive to something Olivia could neither see nor hear. Her eyes glazed and she stiffened. Olivia felt her knees buckle. She knew that look. She'd seen Alex retreat into that placid, dissociative state many times before. Alex walked toward Olivia without looking at her and pushed the infant into her arms. Olivia was numb as she felt the warm weight settle against her chest. "Alex, where are you going?" Alex didn't say anything, didn't turn. She moved forward as though in a trance, unaware of anyone around her. "Don't leave me," Olivia whispered. "Alex, please! I don't know what to do. Please, please don't leave me."_

The phone rang and Olivia blinked slowly, trying to remember where she was. She was in a too-big, too-empty apartment suddenly that seemed less like home than the cell in that basement had. _No, that's not right. Alex was here just a second ago, wasn't she?_ Her head spun and her mouth was dry. The pillow beneath her cheek was damp with tears and Olivia felt cold.

The phone kept ringing. Olivia reached for her crutches and stumbled to the phone. After the fourth ring, it cut off and went to voicemail. "Olivia? It's Elliot, are you there? I just want to make sure you made it in okay."

Olivia was trembling, her eyes glassy and wide. She couldn't catch her breath. Her hand hovered over the phone. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to talk to anyone right now. _Except Alex_. Just the thought of Alex twisted her heart. But Alex wasn't here and she knew Elliot would just keep calling until she picked up. The voicemail clicked off and about three seconds later, the phone rang again. "I'm fine, El," Olivia snapped into the receiver without preliminaries. He started to ask something, but Olivia hung up on him.

After putting the phone down, Olivia couldn't relax. She paced her apartment. _Thump. Step. Thump. Step_. The steady rhythm of her footsteps – the thump of the crutches and the slide of her feet – helped drive out all other thoughts. She tried to focus on it, to hold everything else at bay. _Thump. Step. _She didn't want to remember. She hated that it was always there, the memories were always just lurking in her head, waiting to catch her with her guard down. _Thump. Step_. The baby kicked. Olivia grimaced. She didn't want to think about that either. _Thump. Step. _It kicked again, harder, and Olivia sat back down on the couch. "What am I supposed to do about you?" she asked. There was no one there to give an answer.

* * *

><p><strong>March 18, 2004 – East Amherst<strong>

Three months. It had been three whole months. Some days it felt like years ago, like a lifetime ago. Her life had settled into something like normalcy. She wasn't ready to go back to work – and she was lucky that her family's wealth afforded her that luxury – but she'd started venturing out of the house more. Even the most normal and mundane tasks, things like going to the grocery store, stopping at Starbucks for coffee with her mother, or visiting the local library with Robert, were challenging at first, but Alex was determined not to remain confined to her own house.

Other days, Alex woke up thinking that she was still trapped in that place. She'd surge out of bed in a blind panic, often screaming loudly enough to wake her mother halfway across the house. Those were the bad days. Those were the days when she could barely force herself to move, the days when she stayed curled in bed, one hand balled into a fist held tight against her chest.

Today was one of those days.

The snow was thick on the ground, but the winter sun was shining bright and Alex tilted her face up to its heat. _Feel that? _she told herself. _You're home. You're safe. He's not here. He can't touch you anymore_. It didn't matter. She could still feel the ghost of her dream hovering over her. She could still feel him touching her, his hands claiming ownership of her body while he laughed at how submissive, how compliant, how _broken_ she was. Alex shivered.

"You've got to be freezing." Alex turned and saw Robert coming out of the house, a steaming mug in his hands. He sat next to her on the swinging bench and passed her the cup. Alex rolled it in her hands, breathing in the tangy scent of hot apple cider.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Well, I came to see if you wanted to grab lunch with me. Don't suppose you want to go, get out for a bit? Your mom said you had a rough morning."

Alex scoffed. 'Rough' was an understatement. "You could say that." Her eyes traced across the snow-covered landscape of her parents' estate. She'd woken up screaming Olivia's name, begging for help. She had been in such a state of panic that she didn't even recognize her mother when Elizabeth came in to try to calm her down. She'd locked herself in the bathroom and it had taken more than an hour of shaking sobs to remember where she was. Her dream felt so real, so terrifyingly real. "You go on without me. I think I'm just going to stay in today."

Robert sat back and kicked against the ground, setting the bench in a slow, swaying motion. "I could stay too, if you want."

Alex sighed and rubbed her temples. She'd come out to the back porch because she wanted to be left alone. "Did my mother put you up to this?"

"She's worried about you," Robert evaded the question. "And I am too."

Alex didn't reply. She sipped slowly on the cider, allowing the warmth to spread through her body.

"Have you talked to Olivia since you left the city?" Robert asked.

"No." Alex's reply was curt, intended to dissuade this thread of conversation.

"Maybe you should," Robert suggested. "It's been months, Alex. It might be good for you." He paused. "Your mom said you were asking for her this morning when you woke up."

"And she decided to share that with you?" Alex's voice turned cold. "I'm glad to know that apparently my having a panic attack voids any reasonable expectation of privacy."

Robert winced. He shouldn't have said anything. Elizabeth had called him early this morning, crying. She was scared for her daughter, scared that nothing she did seemed to help. She hadn't meant to betray Alex's confidence, but sometimes she needed a shoulder to lean on too. She'd called Robert looking for help, looking for advice, and had ended up saying more than she should have about Alex's recent nightmares and panic attacks.

_Alex's screaming had woken her up, but when she tried to approach, Alex just flinched and pulled away, refusing to be touched. "Noooo!" Alex pleaded; the sound low and drawn out. Her eyes were squeezed closed, her arms folded over her chest. "No, please. Please don't." _

"_Alex." Elizabeth crouched a few feet away from her daughter. _

"_Please, no. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"_

"_Alex, can you hear me? You're safe. There's nobody here." _

_Alex's eyes flew open in terror. She scrambled, stumbling to her feet and fleeing, slamming the bathroom door behind her. "Olivia," she whimpered, sliding down the wall. "Olivia, help me." _

"It might help to talk to her. You two went through a lot together."

"Maybe so. But not today." Alex got to her feet, stamping to shake off the snow. "I'm going in to warm up."

* * *

><p><strong>July 2, 2004 – New York City<strong>

It was late at night and the Computer Crimes unit was almost empty. There was a single light on, a single computer still up, a single detective still working hard after the others had gone home. She had thrown herself into her new job as much to seek an escape as anything else. By the time she finished working her twelve or fourteen hour long days, she was too exhausted to think about anything else.

She pushed back from her desk and stood, leaning back to offset the weight of her swollen belly. For the fifth time that hour, she started the trek toward the bathroom. Although she had long been off the crutches, she still walked with a cane, favoring her left side. Eventually, with more time and more physical therapy – and once she was rid of all this extra weight she carried around her middle – she would be rid of the cane as well and would regain her former strength. Olivia was tired of hearing "eventually." Eventually she'd be fine. Eventually she'd be able to walk normally. Eventually she would stop having flashbacks. Eventually she would stop having nightmares. Eventually she would be able to stop paying a small fortune to talk to a therapist every week. Eventually, eventually...

The hallway of the 28th precinct was empty. The only sound was that of Olivia's footsteps and the only movement the flicker of her shadow on the wall. Even though Olivia had been working here for more than five months now, it still didn't seem to fit quite right, the way working at the 1-6 always had. At first, she'd thought that it seemed off because she was so far behind what everyone else was doing. It took her a solid month just to feel like she was up to speed on the basics of online tracking and monitoring. In that month, she'd worked hard – harder than anyone else – to prove that she could do this work as well as anyone. But even after she got the hang of the work, things still just didn't feel right. She didn't know these people and they didn't know her. There was no chance to really build partnerships here – there was no going out in the field together, no chasing perps, no sharing drinks after a victorious case. Most of their time was spent in cubicles in front of a computer screen.

By now, she had learned more new techniques for catching online criminals than she'd ever imagined were possible, and she excelled at her work. The NYPD had always been fairly advanced in terms of the toys they used to track down criminals. Sometimes they played with the line of what was legal and what wasn't, simply because they were the first to test these new methods. Since 9/11, the New York police had pushed that line even farther, cooperating with Homeland Security and the FBI in monitoring online activities. Olivia had to admit, there was an element of fun to her work. It was engaging and challenging, and she didn't have to deal with murderers, rapists, pedophiles, and abusers in person. Even so, it wasn't quite right for her. This was not the unit she wanted to spend the rest of her career in.

Even though she no longer worked there, Olivia still considered SVU home. They were her friends, the closest thing to family she had. Whether they still worked together or not, she needed them. They seemed to know that. Before, when they'd all been working together, they virtually never socialized in their off-hours – they spent entirely too much time together on the job. After Olivia was released from the hospital, however, Fin had thrown out the idea of getting together once a week for dinner. Everyone else agreed eventually, after tossing around the idea and bickering over which day of the week would be their designated night for long enough that Olivia could pretend this was a casual idea among friends and not something they were doing just for her.

Those weekly dinners quickly became the highlight of Olivia's week. She looked forward to Thursday nights, to sitting down for a meal with Elliot; Fin; Munch; their new ADA, Casey Novak; and sometimes even Captain Cragen. At first, Olivia had been hesitant around Casey – she didn't like the idea of meeting Alex's replacement as the prosecutor for SVU cases. But the red-head was fun and easy-going, and she didn't pry or ask awkward questions about Olivia's past. The first time they met for dinner at her apartment, Fin noticed a case of poker-chips under the coffee table and challenged her. Casey took him for five straight hands before he conceded defeat. After that, poker formed a permanent part of their weekly routine.

Olivia never met her own replacement at SVU – or rather, replacements. From what she heard, Cragen was having a hard time keeping the position filled. Nobody lasted more than a few months, and the rest of the team was getting tired of it. The fast turn-over rate made it harder on all of them to keep up with the already-overburdened caseload.

After using the restroom, Olivia was halfway back to the office when she felt her abdominal muscles contract painfully, sending a ripple through her body. Olivia gasped. She'd been having Braxton-Hicks contractions every couple days for the past two weeks, but this one felt different.

Olivia leaned heavily on her cane, entered the office and sat at her desk. Her eyes blurred as she looked at the screen and got back to work.

Twenty minutes later, another contraction gripped her, stronger than before. Olivia groaned, grinding her teeth as the pain overtook her. These weren't Braxton-Hicks contractions. She picked up the phone. "This is Detective Olivia Benson, in Computer Crimes at the 28th Precinct. I need a bus. I think I'm going into labor."

* * *

><p><strong>July 27, 2004 – Albany <strong>

Around the beginning of summer, Alex decided that it was time to get back to work, time to start rebuilding her life. Within a month of sending out resumes, she had half a dozen job offers across the state. She decided to take up a two-year appointment to a clerkship with the appeals court in Albany.

It was a chance for a new start, a clean slate. Alex was looking forward to it. A year ago, she'd been one of the most successful ADA in New York. She had a knack for working with victims. The police officers she worked with liked her. She was dedicated and unwavering in her commitment to the law and to seeking justice. She'd had political aspirations and the connections to turn them into reality. So much had happened in the past year, so much had changed.

But she was still a good lawyer and still dedicated to public service and to upholding the law – now more than ever.

So she accepted the job offer and moved to Albany. Robert offered her the use of his condo – he planned to stay in East Amherst for another few months, and having a place to stay helped ease the transition to Albany. Alex would have some time to explore the area and find an apartment she liked in a safe area near her work. She wasn't taking much with her, but Elizabeth insisted on accompanying her to Albany to help her get settled in. So Alex and Robert loaded her things, splitting them between Alex's new Honda Civic and Elizabeth's Prius. Elizabeth would ride with Alex and then she and Robert would head back to East Amherst tomorrow.

"Are you sure about this?" Elizabeth asked, worried. She wasn't up to carrying any boxes in from the car, so she busied herself with unpacking Alex's things and putting them in the empty closet in Robert's guest bedroom. "Sure you're ready? You know, love, you can stay at home for as long as you want."

Alex set down a heavy box of books. Probably half of her boxes were filled with books; Alex never went anywhere without her library. "I'm sure," she said confidently. "I need this."

Later that night, the three of them ate Chinese take-out around the small table tucked in a breakfast nook. It wasn't a terribly large apartment, but it was well laid-out, managing to get the most out of the available square footage. In addition to Robert's master bedroom and the guest room Alex now occupied, there was a small office and a mid-sized salon with the kitchen and living room. If it weren't for the change in flooring, from soft Berber carpet to cream-colored tile, there would be little separation from kitchen to living room.

At that moment, sitting for a meal with her mother and Robert, Alex felt truly happy. She had needed the time at home in East Amherst, but it was time to move on, time to start getting her life back together. This was a step in that direction.

They drained one bottle of wine with dinner and opened a second. Elizabeth slipped out onto the porch for a quick smoke, despite Robert and Alex's looks of disapproval. Alex turned to Robert. "You'll keep an eye on her for me?" she asked. It was one aspect of leaving East Amherst that set her on edge. Even though Elizabeth hadn't had any more health problems since her heart attack before Christmas, Alex still worried about her.

"Of course," he replied with a smile.

"Thank you." Alex smiled back. "And thanks for letting me use your place."

"Oh, it's no problem. Mi casa es su casa. I told my partners I'd be coming back to work around mid-November. I don't know if you are going to be looking for a new apartment or what, but you're welcome to stay here as long as you like."

Alex nodded. "Thanks. I'm hoping to have my own place before too long, but I'll keep it in mind."

Robert and Elizabeth left just after breakfast the next morning and Alex set about getting settled in and familiarizing herself with the area. She had almost a week before starting work at the beginning of August, and she was determined to get the full use out of that time. Robert's condo was within walking distance of Washington Park, and Alex spent long hours sitting on a bench near the water, reading. She liked the semi-solitude of the park. She still felt nervous around crowds at times, but the park setting allowed her to be alone and observe groups of people from a distance. It calmed her.

* * *

><p><strong>September 3, 2004<strong> – <strong>Albany**

Alex had been living in Albany for a month when Robert came up to visit for a weekend. His dad had planned a major campaign rally leading up to the election and his advisors thought it would be best to have the whole family there. Robert grimaced when he told Alex about their itinerary. "He's actually going to be speaking on gay marriage," he said in disgust. "I am going to be up on stage, standing right behind him, while my dad talks to his supporters about how 'the homosexuals are destroying society,'" he mocked. "God, Alex, I don't know if I can keep a straight face."

"I thought he told you he wasn't going to include that in his platform?"

Robert shook his head. "That's what he said. But he's been polling low and he wants to really grab the conservative base. And that means hammering in 'traditional social values.' It's not just gay marriage. He's taking a hard line on all the social issues. And what pisses me off is that I _know_ that he's more moderate than this. I know that he's just saying what he has to say to get elected. I just wish he could leave me out of it."

"Why don't you just tell him that?" Alex said. She'd never had much patience for Robert's dad, who was – in her opinion – the quintessential sleazy politician. "Tell him you'll stand next to him on the economics, but that you refuse to be on stage during social issues."

"I can't do that," Robert replied. "What's that going to look like, if I just up and disappear halfway through his speech? No. He needs me. He needs the family all together to support him. I'll just have to deal with it. Half my clients only came to me because they've worked with my dad in the past. I can't afford to alienate him and risk losing business."

"I'm sorry." Alex said. "You could always ditch your clients and come work with me in appeals?" She grinned at him, trying to raise the mood.

Robert smiled back. "And give up my cushy job for a public servant's salary? No thanks!" But Alex's jab of humor relaxed him and she could see his shoulders ease. Sometimes just talking to a friend was all that was needed to lighten the burden. "I guess it could always be worse. You know, I could be an ADA, slaving sixty hour weeks for a pittance."

"Hey, check your math there," Alex corrected him. "It's more like seventy or eighty hour weeks for half a pittance!"

"Wow, that bad? You're right, I feel better now about letting my dad call me a threat to traditional marriage in front of the entire state."

They both laughed. It wasn't funny, and Alex wished there were a way to change this. But enough of Alex's relatives were politicians for her to know what it meant to have one in the family. Eventually, she hoped that Robert would find a way to stand up to his dad. But he hadn't yet – the fact he'd spent the last year hiding in East Amherst on his father's orders was proof enough of that – and he wouldn't now. Until he did, there wasn't much else to do about it.

"So do you miss it?" Robert asked a little while later.

"What?"

"The seventy hour weeks for crappy pay."

"Oh," Alex considered. "A little," she said finally. "I miss knowing that I'm doing some good."

"Appeals not cutting it for you?"

"Not really. It's not the same." Alex shook her head, pondering. "Working at SVU was… well, it was awful. But…" Alex sighed. "I think it was worth it."

"Do you think you'd ever go back? Maybe not to Special Victims, but even just to Manhattan?"

Alex bit her lip. "I don't know, Robert. I don't know if I can." She felt like a weight had suddenly dropped in her stomach. She wasn't expecting the conversation to take this turn. She wasn't ready for it. "There are just too many bad memories there."

"What about just going down for a visit? We could take a weekend and drive down. _Billy Elliot_ is on Broadway and I've been dying to see it. My treat?" he offered. "We can stay away from your old neighborhood, if that would make you feel better."

Alex shook her head. "It's not the places so much as the people."

"Ah." Robert gave her a measuring look. "You haven't talked to any of your friends from there since you came back to the upstate, have you?" Alex shook her head. "Not even Olivia Benson?"

"No," Alex whispered.

"Why not?" Robert could tell that Alex didn't want to talk about this, but he couldn't help pressing her on it, just a little bit.

Alex looked at the ground. She had not told anyone about what had happened between her and Olivia. In all the times she'd told her story – to the DEA investigator, to her therapist, and a very little to her mother – she had avoided that aspect of her time in captivity. She felt that it was too private, too intimate, to share.

But she told Robert. She wasn't sure why she decided she could talk to him about it, but she felt that she could. She'd known him forever and in the past few months he had shown himself to be a true friend. She knew that she could count on him to listen without judging her, to keep her confidence, to tell her that she had done the right thing, and maybe even help her to understand her own feelings. So, her heart in her throat, Alex started to tell him.

She couldn't get through it all at once; it was too much. But over the next few days, the story came out. Alex told him about the conversation she'd overheard at the hospital and then, bit by bit, about all the little things leading up to it, all the things that had twisted through her mind that last night in New York. All the little things that had led Alex to her pitiful conclusion – that Olivia didn't want her, that whatever they'd felt for each other had been nothing more than a desperate way to cope.

"It started after… Zapata used Olivia – he made her do things to me. Neither of us had a choice in it, but she… God, she felt so guilty about it. She would have done anything, said anything to help me, to make up for what happened. And I… I just felt so lost and so alone."

"It was my fault. I needed to not feel so alone, so scared all the time. I turned to her. She hated herself, for what Zapata made her do. And I didn't pay attention to that, I just wanted someone to hold me. I needed someone who could touch me without hurting me. I needed someone to love me and she was the only one there who could do that."

"I don't know how it happened. We'd… since the beginning, we'd always taken care of each other. It was the only way, the only way to survive. And… she was all I had. I think I started to fall in love with her."

"And I know how crazy that sounds. I've never been… I've never felt anything like that for a woman – for anyone, before. I couldn't bear to see them hurt her. I would've done anything to keep her safe. And I did _everything _I could to keep her safe. I just felt like if she left me… if they separated us, I'd die. I really wouldn't have been able to keep going."

"I thought… I thought she felt the same. But… maybe it was just a coping mechanism. Maybe it was just a crazy way to deal with an unbearable situation. I don't know."

"Raul was… he made us do something… And I think Olivia wanted to fight him, didn't want to do it. But she said it was up to me and I was just too scared of what would happen if we resisted. She did say she loved me, then, but that was in… it wasn't a normal situation. Maybe she was just gave me what she thought I needed because she felt guilty… about what was happening then and what had already happened before."

"When Raul caught me trying to contact the police, though, he took it out on her. It was… bad. Really bad. After that, I don't know. She wouldn't talk to me. She didn't want me around."

"After we were rescued, once we got to the hospital, she pushed me away completely. She didn't want me."

"I'd fallen in love with her. And I couldn't stand the thought she doesn't feel the same way –that what we had was only her way of coping, or that she did it because she felt guilty because of what Zapata made her do. I couldn't stand the thought that… that she might hate having me around, hate remembering everything that happened between us. So I left."

Robert listened. The story didn't come out all at once, but piece by piece, spread out across several days. He didn't know how to help her, didn't know what to say. What could you say to a story like that?

"Alex," he began once Alex had finished. "I still think you should talk to her. I think it might be good for you – for both of you."

"No," Alex said. "No. I want her to be happy. And I don't think she can be with me around… with me there as a constant reminder of what happened."

"But she called you, remember? When you first got here, she called every day. Why would she do that if she didn't want you around? Why would she do that if she didn't care?"

That gave Alex pause. "Maybe she…" She stopped. Robert was right. It didn't make sense. Alex had been so hurt, so blind with pain that she hadn't thought it through clearly – she'd just run. Even in those first few months, the wounds were still too raw, too fresh to really work through. "I don't know." She considered carefully, her eyes distant. "Do you think I'm wrong? That maybe…." Her voice trailed off. _Maybe what, Alex?_ She scoffed at herself. _Maybe Olivia loves you too?_ She shook her head at the idea.

"I don't know." Robert replied. "You're not often wrong, Alexandra Cabot," he said with a small grin, "But maybe in this case…" He turned serious again. "I don't know what you two went through. I don't know Olivia. I don't know her side of this. Only she can tell you that. But you won't know anything until you ask her."

"So what am I supposed to do? Just call her out of the blue? After what? Eight, nine months without a word?" She shook her head slowly and wrapped her arms across her chest. Fear gripped her; the kind of fear she hadn't felt in months. She was afraid, afraid to talk to Olivia and hear confirmed all the things that she had surmised. And she was even more afraid that she was wrong and Olivia had felt something for her. After months of telling herself otherwise, that notion was almost too foreign to contemplate. And what if Olivia had felt something, but now hated her for leaving? That might be the worst of all. "I don't know. What would I say? After this long, I don't know that she'd even want to hear from me anymore."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**- Alright, so this chapter ended up being about twice as long as my regular chapters... I don't want to drag this out too terribly long, since I know you are all anxious to see Alex and Olivia back together. Next chapter.

**Disclaimers**: I mentioned Honda, Toyota, and Billy Elliot. I don't own or profit from any of them. If any of you have not seen Billy Elliot, though, you definitely should. I think the movie is on Netflix. I would kill to see it live on Broadway.


	34. Chapter 34

**Thursday, October 14, 2004 – New York**

Olivia's apartment – and her life – had changed dramatically in the three months since her daughter's birth. Her one-bedroom apartment had always been big enough to accommodate the needs of a single woman living alone, but Olivia had to admit she wished now that she had an extra room to convert into a nursery. As it was, the crib occupied one corner of the living room and the back of the couch served as a partition that separated the "nursery" from the sitting area. This meant that the couch was pushed forward so far that Olivia's knees practically bumped the coffee table whenever she sat down. On the bright side, her old and battered television seemed much larger now that she was sitting so much closer to the screen.

As Olivia pushed the stroller through the doorway on her way home from work, she heard Emily start to fuss. She left the groceries in the sling under the stroller – there was nothing that needed to go in the fridge, so she could wait to unpack until after she'd taken care of her daughter. She unclipped her gun and badge from her belt and squeezed past the stroller. Emily squalled in protest as she saw her mother walking away. Olivia went into the bedroom, opened her gun-safe, and dropped her service weapon inside, locking it securely before returning to lift Emily out of the stroller. "Hey, sweetie," she said. "I didn't forget about you." The moment she was in her mother's arms, Emily quieted, turning her head to Olivia's breast and rooting, nudging against the soft flesh. Olivia shifted her shirt as she walked to the couch and settled back into the thick cushions, propping a pillow up under the arm that supported Emily's head. The infant's lips clamped down ferociously and she sucked with soft grunts of contentment. Olivia closed her eyes, feeling the soothing tug and suck as Emily drank eagerly. Her free hand stroked over the downy, fuzz that covered Emily's head.

The choice to keep her daughter was not one she had made lightly. If she had been able to get the abortion early on, she would have. She wouldn't have doubted herself or looked back. But the more time that had passed, the more her feelings toward the child growing inside her had changed. She saw it on an ultrasound. She felt it move. She felt it grow, kicking and shifting inside her. Her own mother had given her a chance and she wanted this child to have a chance as well.

She'd thought about adoption and she had even gone in to talk to a couple adoption agencies. But when the adoption coordinator asked about the child's genetic and family history, Olivia had to explain that the biological father was unknown, a rapist, and that her own father was also unknown, also a rapist. She caught the fleeting look of revulsion that the coordinator tried to hide. Olivia had always felt the weight of the darkness she harbored in her own genes. "_Half my genes are drunk and the other half_ are _violent and cruel," was the way she phrased it. She knew what it was to live with that burden and it stung that this person – this self-satisfied stranger in an expensive office with yellow walls, cartoon elephants, and pictures of babies – would judge her child even before it was born. Olivia had gotten up, lumbering to her feet with one hand on her stomach and the other gripping her cane, and walked out the door without another word._

_Before going to that adoption agency, Olivia had already loved the child she carried. She wanted this baby to be born and to have a good life. But that encounter had awakened Olivia's fierce, protective side. After that, there had been no more thought of giving the child up for adoption. She would care for this child herself. She would love it, and try to be a better mother than Serena had been for her. And she would raise this child to know what Olivia herself still struggled with – that the genes do not make the person. _

And now as Olivia sat on her couch, her feet kicked up on the coffee table and her 3-and-a-half-month-old daughter cradled in her arms, she did not regret that decision. She'd been afraid – terribly afraid – that she would look at the child and see the man who fathered it. But when Emily was born and the nurse placed her in Olivia's arms, she did not see a rapist's face. All she saw was this sweet, perfect child with a pudgy baby-face that was too amorphous to really resemble anybody.

Emily was born with a full head of curly brown hair matted against her skull. Over the first weeks of her life, most of that hair had fallen out and regrown, straight, sleek, and jet-black. Her skin was a clear, soft shade of bronze, only slightly darker than Olivia's olive tone. She looked up at Olivia with wide, dark eyes that mirrored Olivia's own. She was a calm baby, content to recline in her swing and examine the world around her with a somber gaze.

Emily was drooping now, milk-drunk and tired in Olivia's arms. The purple butterfly clip that Olivia had placed in her hair this morning was dangling by a few strands, barely holding on. Olivia removed it, tossing the plastic clip onto the coffee table. She lifted Emily to her shoulder, feeling the warm, solid weight slump against her in boneless surrender. She breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet baby-scent that hung around Emily like a natural perfume. Her eyes closed. Emily wasn't the only one on the verge of falling asleep.

A sharp knock on the door disturbed the quiet reverie. Olivia snapped upright, her arms clenching protectively around her baby as she leapt to her feet. Emily wailed in protest at the sudden movement. Olivia's heart pounded and she swallowed hard, trying not to shake with the surge of adrenaline that rushed through her. "_Shhh_," she soothed, pressing her lips to Emily's head. "_Shhh_, Em. Mommy didn't mean to wake you." Her hands trembled as she tried to calm Emily. These panicked reactions had mostly faded over the past ten months, but on today of all days Olivia was on edge.

She checked through the peephole before unlocking the door. "Damn it, Fin, she was just going down for a nap." The door swung open and Fin stepped in, balancing several large pizzas in one hand and picking up a case of beer in the other.

"Sorry." Olivia stepped aside to let him in and Fin swiftly dropped the pizzas on the counter and put the beer in the fridge. "You told me to get here at 7:30, right?"

Olivia glanced at the clock. "Yeah. I guess I just lost track of time." Fin's bachelor pad was too small to host their weekly dinners and Olivia didn't particularly like cooking, so whenever it was Olivia's turn to host, she and Fin split the cost of the food and he came early to set up and stayed after to help her clean. It was a partnership that worked well for them.

"You want me to take her so you can get cleaned up? You look like hell."

"Gee, thanks," Olivia said wryly. She was still wearing her clothes from work, and now they were rumpled, her shirt stained with spit-up. Her apartment was a mess. Emily's toys were everywhere and her groceries from earlier were still in bags in the back of the stroller, which was taking up most of the hallway near the door. Maybe tonight wasn't the best night to have people over. Maybe she should tell Fin to leave and call everybody else to cancel. She felt Fin watching her.

"Go on," he said quietly. "I've got this." He smiled at Emily. "Isn't that right, Em?" Emily grinned and squirmed in Olivia's arms, twisting toward the familiar sound of Fin's voice. Olivia surrendered the child into his arms, watching fondly as he scooped her up in the air and she giggled with glee. Fin brought Emily down and held her in the one arm, with her head supported in the crook of his elbow. Emily kicked her legs happily, eager to fly up in the air again.

"K. I'll be right back." She disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Emily in Fin's competent hands.

In the safety of the shower, Olivia leaned into the stream of water as is plastered her hair down the sides of her face. Heavy streams of water cascaded down her body and steam billowed around her, hot, wet air rushing into her lungs with every breath. _One year_, she thought. _One year ago today_. For the most part, she tried hard not to think about it, not to let it rule her life. In the past ten months, she had shouldered the responsibility of motherhood. She'd taken on a new job as part of the Anti-Terrorism Taskforce in the Computer Crimes Unit. She worked persistently to maintain her old friendships and – in the case of Casey Novak and a few of her new coworkers – build new ones. She had thrown herself headlong back into life. She drove herself every day to the brink of exhaustion – an exhaustion that she never managed to sleep off anymore, not with Emily waking her up several times a night. And somehow the constant bustle, the relentless demands of her job and her child, managed to drive everything else from her mind. It probably wasn't the best way to handle things, but it worked for her. It was a coping mechanism and one that she needed. Burying herself in work had always served as an effective way to forget anything else.

Not tonight, though. Tonight the memories were inescapable. A year ago right now, she'd been sitting at a bar with the rest of SVU, enjoying a drink and a basket of onion rings after a long day – a long week – of work. A year ago tonight, she and Alex and Elliot had stepped out of the bar together. A year ago tonight…

As she got out of the shower and dried off, she could feel a bump on her leg underneath the towel – the hard knot of scar tissue on the back of her left thigh, where the .22 caliber bullet had entered her body. She ran her hand over it, feeling again the smooth, puckered tissue where they had pulled her skin closed over the wound. She allowed herself a brief moment to stand there, water dripping onto the floor and her fingers resting atop that scar as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. There were too many memories, too many scars – seen and unseen. She turned away from her reflection, finished drying off, and got dressed.

By the time Olivia made it back out to the living room, Casey was there, balancing Emily on her lap while Fin popped a frozen pizza in the oven. One of them – Olivia wasn't sure which – had cleaned the living room, piling Emily's toys next to the playpen, unpacking the groceries, and running a vacuum across the worn-out carpet. Emily had one fist twisted in Casey's red hair and gurgled happily as the attorney attempted unsuccessfully to extricate herself. But as soon as Emily spotted her mother, she reached out, abandoning Casey to go back to Olivia's arms. Olivia plopped down on the couch next to Casey and pulled Emily to her. "Don called; he says he's on his way," Casey updated Olivia. "Munch is still at work but said he'd stop by if he could."

"And Elliot's not coming." Like her, Elliot had his own memories to face today – memories best faced in the company of family. "He told me last week he wouldn't be."

"How are you doing?" Casey asked. She knew Olivia well enough by now not to directly bring up anything that had happened, but there was no problem with offering a space for conversation, if Olivia wanted it. "Today?"

"I'm fine," Olivia said without hesitation. "It's just another day." She didn't need to say anything else. That conversation closed before it ever started.

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday, October 14, 2004 – New York<strong>

After dinner, Elliot found himself in the kitchen washing the seemingly endless stream of dishes as Kathy brought them in from the dining room. Dinner had been a fiasco – he'd come home after a long day at work, wanting nothing more than to spend a quiet evening with his family. But Kathy had other ideas; she thought that the anniversary of the shooting was a reason to celebrate life. Elliot had come home to a house full of relatives; Kathy's brother, her parents, and his mom had all come over to be with them.

Elliot tried to be understanding. He knew that his "death" and disappearance had greatly impacted the entire family and that Kathy's way of coping with anything usually involved family and food. If she wanted the family around tonight, if she wanted laughter and company and a house full of people to drive away the memories of last year, then he wanted to support her in that. He wanted to be there for her the way she so obviously needed. But he couldn't help his dour, silent mood. He couldn't help that when he looked out the window and saw his brother-in-law's Chevy Tahoe pull up in the driveway, he was remembering another SUV – one with dark tinted windows that only opened enough for the barrel of a gun to point out.

"I'm sorry, El," Kathy said as she brought the last load of dishes in. "I know you didn't want to do this tonight. I thought you just needed some cheering up – that it would be alright once everyone was here." She wrapped her arms around him from behind, kissing his shoulder.

"It's fine," Elliot said flatly. A casserole dish slipped in his soapy hands, falling into the sink with a splash. "It was good to see everyone."

Kathy sighed. She knew when Elliot was blowing her off. "What can I do, Elliot? How am I supposed to help you when you won't talk to me, when you don't tell me what's going on?" He'd been surly for days and had barely acknowledged her when Kathy first suggested having everyone over for dinner tonight. Kathy thought that maybe having the family around would be enough to snap him out of this, but apparently not.

Elliot drained the soapy water and started rinsing. He handed the wet dishes to Kathy without a word. She grabbed a dish towel and dried as he rinsed. They finished the dishes in silence, Kathy still waiting for a response and Elliot avoiding her gaze.

"Everybody still in the living room?" Elliot asked.

Kathy shook her head. "They left already. I said you weren't feeling well." All she got in response was a short grunt. Elliot grabbed the sponge and a bottle of Lysol and headed for the dining room. Kathy stripped off the table cloth while Elliot wiped down everything else. "How's Olivia doing? And little Emily?"

"She's getting by," replied Elliot. "I don't know how she does it."

"Well, she's got good friends to help out." It came out a little snarkier than Kathy intended. She knew that Olivia had been through hell and back; she knew that Elliot's old partner was a far stronger woman than she could ever be, to try to raise a child alone after everything she'd been through. But that knowledge didn't stop her from wanting _her_ husband at home with their family. It didn't stop her frustration every time that Elliot spent a weekend afternoon watching Emily so that Olivia could get some sleep or run errands. It didn't stop her flash of jealousy every night that Elliot called to say he'd be home late because he was stopping by to check on Olivia and Emily. It didn't stop her anger when, after working a 10-12 hour day and visiting Olivia and her child, Elliot was too tired to help his own children with their homework, to pay attention to the problems in his own family, to have sex with his own wife.

Ever since last fall, Kathy felt like she was watching her family crumble around her. Maureen was struggling in college. Kathleen barely spoke to her and Elliot anymore; the teenager's moodiness had the rest of the family walking on eggshells around her half the time. Dickie was fast becoming his father – surly, silent, and withdrawn. And Lizzie, at 11 years old, chafed at always being treated as the baby of the family. She was constantly trying to exert herself, to dress and behave more like her older sisters. And with the way Kathleen was acting out all the time, Kathy had her hands full trying to pull Lizzie back from following her sister's footsteps. Of course, Elliot wasn't around for any of this. He was always at work. He was always taking care of others, always fixing things for other families. Kathy tried not to nag at him, tried to give him space to figure everything out for herself. She tried not to resent Olivia for pulling him away from her. She tried, she really did. But she didn't always succeed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Kathy sighed. _Just that I wish you'd spend more time with our family. Just that I want you to spend more time with me than you do with her. Is that so wrong?_

"Right." Every married man knows how dangerous 'nothing' can be and Elliot was no fool. Elliot turned to face her, cleaning momentarily forgotten. "What's wrong, Kath?"

Kathy picked up the tablecloth that she'd left bundled in one chair. She headed for the washing machine, Elliot following at her heels. "It's nothing, Elliot," she insisted. There was no way to say what she was feeling without coming across as the nagging, selfish housewife. It wasn't a role Kathy enjoyed playing.

"No, you wanted to talk. So tell me what's bugging you." Kathy started the wash and turned to head back to the kitchen, but Elliot was planted in the doorway, blocking the exit from the utility closet.

"_What's bugging me?" _Kathy thought, incredulous. _What's bugging me is that I thought coming back from the dead would be enough to remind you that you've got a family who needs you, that you've got a family who loves you, that you have children who were nearly destroyed by thinking that their father was dead and whose world was turned on its head when you came back. What's bugging me is that you seem to think that we can all just get over that, all just jump back into life as usual – that the minute you come home, all you want is to get back to work. Your job is dangerous – I'd think you'd have learned that by now! – but you keep going out without a single thought of what it would do to our family if anything happened to you again. What's bugging me is that you're still married to your job; you're still married to your partner. And what's left for me? A few minutes when you stumble in the door at the end of a night? Mass on Sunday mornings and maybe lunch afterward if we're lucky? But then you're off again, at work, at Olivia's, risking your life and taking care of everyone and everything but your own family. _Kathy bit her lip. "Let's just go to bed," she said. "It's late and I'm tired. We can talk later."

* * *

><p><strong>November, 2004 – New York<strong>

The brisk, autumn afternoon was beautiful, but Olivia did not see it. She was too furious to pay attention to the dappled light that fell across her jogging path in Central Park. The pounding of her feet against the gravel beneath her reverberated up her legs and her lungs burned with each gasp of chilly air. The sunlight filtered through the changing leaves, leaving everything in sight tinged with a red glow. Olivia's breath sounded ragged in her own ears. She ached from head to toe and her body cried out for rest, but she kept pushing forward. _One more lap_, she told herself. _One more lap and then I'll head home_. Fin was babysitting Emily today. She'd called to let him know she'd be late getting home, but that was several hours ago and she knew that he'd probably have to leave soon.

Today marked the end of the first trial against her abusers. Today she'd walked into the courtroom hoping against hope for justice. Today she'd been let down by the decision of twelve men and women – twelve strangers who she had never seen before and would never see again, but who had found her testimony lacking and judged her rapist to be not-guilty.

He'd been convicted, of course, on charges of drug possession and intent to sell, for assault with a deadly weapon, and for unlawful imprisonment. But not for rape. With the complete lack of physical evidence, the question of exactly which cartel members had raped Olivia came down to her testimony and her IDs of her attackers. But at some point in her two months of captivity, Olivia had stopped seeing their faces. There had been no hope of rescue, no hope of freedom, no hope of justice (or vengeance). So she had stopped seeing them. It was better to go away, to close her eyes and pretend she was somewhere else than to look on their faces and see their pleasure as they tormented her. So when Hammond had shown her the photo array to try to ID which men had raped her, Olivia correctly identified only twelve as members of the cartel. She also misidentified nine random members of the public who'd participated in the photo line-up as cartel members. That mistake rendered essentially all of her IDs completely useless.

This first trial ended with a conviction on every charge but the rape. The man would spend the next 65 years in prison for his crimes. But Olivia would not see justice done on her behalf.

She'd barely managed to hold herself together as she left the courtroom. There was a mob of journalists at the front of the courthouse, waiting for a statement from the DA prosecuting the case. Olivia didn't dare leave through the front door and face the cameras and questions. In theory, the press was not supposed to report the names of victims, but the abduction of a New York detective and an Assistant District Attorney had been big news. Alex and Olivia's names had been splashed across the headlines in the weeks following their disappearance. A DEA raid against a drug cartel was barely worth a mention in NYC news, but as soon as it leaked that two unidentified women had been rescued from the warehouse, it didn't take long for reporters to put two and two together. A few had approached Olivia directly asking for an interview, but she rebuffed them firmly and they had stopped asking. Still, Olivia thought that walking down the courthouse steps into that mob of cameras and microphones would be stirring the hornet's nest. So instead she slipped out the back of the courthouse, made her way to her precinct, changed into the jogging clothes that she kept in her locker, and headed to Central Park. Only then did she allow the impact of the verdict to hit her. With the flickering, dim light of late afternoon, none of the other joggers would ever pay attention to one woman running alone with tears streaked down her face.

* * *

><p><strong>January, 2005 – New York<strong>

The trials seemed to be coming all at once now and there wasn't a week that Olivia didn't have to take time away from work to testify. Not that her testimony did any good – there had only been two convictions on rape so far and both of those only succeeded because the DEA agent, Oscar Malros, testified that he had witnessed the men raping her.

Malros was scheduled to testify tomorrow; with any luck, this trial would end in conviction on all counts as well.

The DEA was very strict about keeping their witnesses separated, so Olivia had never talked to Malros in the courthouse and never heard his testimony. He had been there that worst night, the night that Olivia couldn't remember. She had no idea who had raped her that night nor how many there had been. It was a complete blank in her memory and she couldn't decide whether it was better not to know or worse to be left with a terrifying hole in her memory. All she knew about that night came from one brief discussion with Malros when he had come to visit her in the hospital.

Olivia might not remember that night at all, but Malros did and it haunted him. Not long after the warehouse raid, he offered Hammond his resignation. Hammond had insisted that he stay on at least until all the trials were over. _"It would look bad," _Hammond said, _"for our only undercover agent in the cartel to quit the Agency right after we've won. It would undermine your testimony and undermine our case._" So he'd stayed with the DEA, but the decision didn't sit right with him. So he'd gone to Olivia and confessed. He couldn't live with what had happened and so he went to her to seek the judgment and punishment that his superiors at the DEA hadn't given him. He'd asked her to press charges against him.

"_If you do," he said, his voice low and thick with regret, "I won't fight it. I'll plead guilty."_

"_What will that help?" Olivia asked wearily. Her skin crawled just thinking about what had happened between them that night. She knew that there was really no other choice for either one of them. If she hadn't consented, he would have walked away. It would have drawn suspicion – probably even exposed him – and she and Alex would never have gotten out of there. So she had consented and he had done what was necessary to maintain his cover. It was what it was and they had to live with it. She shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm not filing charges against you."_

* * *

><p><strong>January 2005 – Albany<strong>

Alex was happy. It was such a strange realization that it stopped her in her tracks. The Starbuck's coffee warmed her hands through winter gloves and the mist of her breath hung in the air in front of her. The snow on the Albany sidewalk was nothing more than icy, grey slush that crunched under her waterproof boots. There were only a few blocks left on her walk home from work and a sudden gust of wind bit at Alex through her coat, reminding her to hurry in out of the cold. But Alex wanted to savor the moment. It had been so long since she could truly say that she felt happy, the feeling was almost foreign to her.

She was still living at Robert's condo; he was an easy flat-mate to live with and she felt safer with him there than she would living on her own. She'd spent the holidays back in East Amherst with her mother and the rest of the extended family. The first few days of that visit were tense – full of awkward silences where her cousins were afraid of doing or saying anything to upset her. But her nieces and nephews had no such reservations. Most of them were too young to know about anything that had happened; they were only glad to see their Auntie Alex again. She enjoyed her job in the appeals court; it was nothing like prosecuting, but it was challenging and fun sometimes. The hours were not nearly what she had worked in Manhattan – even a fifty hour week felt short to her. For a while, she'd been going stir-crazy with all the extra time, so Robert had invited her to join him in volunteering at a local LGBT center. There were always people needing legal advice or lawyers to defend them in discrimination cases, so the center was always open to lawyers willing to work pro bono. She felt like her life was coming together again. She was surrounded by family she loved, friends who supported her, and she did work – both paid and unpaid – that was meaningful.

Overall, she was happy with her life right now and that contentment settled in her chest and warmed her. She left her usual path – the shortest route between Robert's condo and her office – and wandered through the park, stopping at a wooden bench near the ice skating ring. She swept the snow off the bench and sat. There were a dozen or so children racing around the ice and their shrieks and laughs echoed in the snow-covered park. Alex smiled as she watched them. Alex had never been much of an outdoor person, but she had spent two months trapped underground away from sunlight, sky, and wind. After that, she found herself seeking out nature at every opportunity. She walked to and from work. She sat out on the balcony to read in the evenings. She sat in the park on weekend afternoons or after a stressful day at work. Robert had even talked her into a long weekend of skiing and snow-shoeing in the Catskills. Being outside now, feeling the sun on her skin and the wind in her face, brought Alex a new sense of solace and peace that it never had before.

There were still bad days and she still had nightmares, but those moments came less and less frequently as time went on. It had been more than a year now and Alex was ready just to put it all behind her and move on with her life. She wanted to put it behind her, to forget it had ever happened or at least to get to a point where she could pretend it hadn't.

Part of moving on, though, meant testifying against the cartel members. Somehow it worked out that all of the cases had hit the trial stage around the same time and every week brought with it another trip to Manhattan to testify. The DEA was accustomed to working with witnesses who lived all across the country, so the fact that Alex was living in Albany posed no problem at all. Every day that she was needed to testify, they sent a car with a DEA agent to pick her up and drive her down to the courthouse in Manhattan. The agent escorted her into the courtroom and then out again when her testimony was over. She never spoke to anyone else involved in the trial or saw any of the other witnesses. Had she wanted to, she could have stayed and watched the trials after giving her testimony, but she never did. She just went, testified, and came home. After each trial concluded, Hammond called to let her know the verdict.

* * *

><p><strong>February 2005 – New York<strong>

Olivia sat stiffly on the wooden bench in the courtroom as the jury filed back in to deliver the verdict.

Another trial. Another day in court. Another conviction on possession with intent to sell. Another conviction on unlawful imprisonment. Another conviction on assault with a deadly weapon. Another acquittal on rape. It was the tenth trial so far and only three – only the trials where Malros testified – had brought back convictions on rape.

She stalked out of the courtroom as soon as the gavel came down. She slipped away without stopping to talk to anyone and twenty minutes later, she was walking up the steps to her building. In her apartment, Elliot was kicked back on the couch, a beer in hand, his attention divided between Emily and the basketball game on TV.

Ever since he and Kathy had separated last month, he'd spent a lot of time babysitting. Olivia had to admit that it was nice to have someone she could call anytime and ask for help. Emily waved her hands when she saw Olivia, her whole body rocking with the motion. She was sitting up in the middle of a blanket, a plastic elephant caught in one fat hand. There were pillows scattered around her; she'd only started sitting up by herself a week or two ago, so the pillows were there to catch her when she got tired and toppled over.

Elliot looked up when she walked in, shutting the TV off and refocusing his attention. "How'd it go?" he asked. She didn't need to answer. Her expression gave it away. "That bad?"

Olivia sat on the couch next to him, swiping his beer away and taking a long drink. "He got 70 years in prison," she said, "eligible for parole in 30."

"On what charges?" Elliot hesitated to ask. He already knew. It would be the same as the others.

"Convicted on all counts but one."

Elliot cursed. Emily looked up at him and babbled, oblivious.

"If I could just _remember_," Olivia spat. "But I can't. They want to know details. The juries want to hear exactly who did what and when, and I can't fucking remember."

"Liv," Elliot sat up, reaching toward her, but Olivia pulled away.

"There were too many; I just stopped seeing them. I didn't _want_ to see them, didn't want to remember. And now it's my own fault that they're all getting off."

"It's not your fault – not at all," Elliot said gently. "And they're not getting off. Every single one of them has gotten 60-plus years in prison. Those are life sentences, or pretty close to it. They're never coming out; they're never going to hurt anyone again."

"It's not enough."

"Because they're not going away for what they did to you?"

"Yeah." Olivia drained the rest of Elliot's beer and set the bottle down on the coffee table in front of them.

"I'm sorry, Liv." Elliot didn't know what else to say, what else he could say. Olivia couldn't remember each separate event, each individual man, well enough to testify convincingly. There was no physical evidence to point to the specific guilty men. And none of the cartel members were saying anything.

Olivia just shook her head. "Just turn the game back on." As Elliot reached for the remote, Olivia got up and went to the kitchen, returning with two beers.

"Malros is testifying in the next trial, isn't he?" The unspoken follow up was "_so there's a better chance of getting a conviction._" Olivia's testimony was seen as tainted; her memory was fuzzy and even the worst public defender could get her IDs thrown out in their sleep. A DEA agent on the stand made a more credible witness in the eyes of the jury. Where Olivia was seen as an abused woman who couldn't remember her attackers and who just accused anyone and everyone she could, Malros was viewed as an impartial observer. It wasn't fair. It wasn't just. But it was what got convictions.

"Yes," Olivia said shortly. The mention of the DEA agent who had been crucial in their rescue was a sore subject and not one she wanted to talk about. She didn't want to think about him, this man who was responsible for her and Alex's rescue from that warehouse. "Yeah," Olivia repeated. "He is." She grabbed the remote and turned the volume up on the TV. "Listen, El, I don't want to talk about it. Let's just watch the game."

Elliot shut up and turned his attention back to the basketball game on the screen.

After the game finished and Olivia started getting Emily ready for bed. Elliot followed her into the bedroom and dangled his keys over Emily's head as she lay squirming on the changing table. The jangling, shiny object distracted her and she smiled as she reached up to swat at them.

"So, before you left for court today, you said Hammond had news on the Sepulveda trial, yeah? What's going on with that?" Olivia had been cold and silent ever since coming back from court, so he knew she probably didn't want to talk about it, but Elliot couldn't hold back his curiosity.

Olivia didn't respond immediately. Emily seemed to sense her mother's distress; she turned away from Elliot's keys and wailed loudly as she reached for her mom. Olivia's hands shook as she fixed the clean diaper in place. In a single, deft movement, she swung Emily up, holding her against her shoulder and gently patting her back. "Nothing," she said, clearing her throat. "Hammond says they made a deal – took the death penalty off the table in exchange for his testimony against Cesar Velez. Raul will spend the rest of his life in federal custody and Colombia is extraditing Velez to the US for trial."

* * *

><p>Only after he'd left did Elliot realize what was wrong. "Federal custody," Olivia had said – not "federal prison." Before going into WitSec himself, Elliot might not have picked up on the difference. But there was a difference and that needled at him. As soon as he got home, he started calling around. There were only four federal prisons in New York State; it shouldn't take long to track down a prisoner.<p>

It shouldn't have taken long, but it did. Every time Elliot called, he identified himself as an NYPD detective and explained that he was looking for a prisoner connected with one of his cases. But each time, the prison records came up empty. He expanded his search, calling prisons in neighboring states, and then all of New England.

The night slipped away from him and by the time the sun rose the next morning, Elliot was beginning to feel the sting of failure. Raul Sepulveda wasn't anywhere. After his arrest, he'd been placed at the Ray Brook Federal Correctional Institute. A few months later, he'd been transferred. Agent Hammond's signature was on the transfer request. After that, there was no trace of him. He seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth.

Elliot wanted there to be a reason for this. He wanted there to be any excuse other than the obvious.

Just removing the threat of the death penalty – an empty threat, considering New York's moratorium on capital punishment – would not have been enough to turn Sepulveda against as dangerous a man as Cesar Velez.

Almost a year and a half ago, after Alex dropped the case against Rafael Zapata, Agent Hammond had stepped in and immediately arrested him. The DEA offered Zapata a deal – immunity from prosecution, a new identity, and entrance into federal custody in the Witness Protection Program if he would testify against the Colombian cartel boss. Zapata turned it down, made bail, and disaster had followed. Now it seemed that Hammond had offered the same deal to Sepulveda. And unlike his former boss, Raul had taken him up on it.

Elliot felt sick just thinking about it. After everything Raul Sepulveda had done – after everything Olivia and Alex had suffered at his hands – he was going to walk away free, with a new name and a new life, because the DEA considered extraditing and prosecuting Cesar Velez to be a higher priority than convicting a rapist.

His heart heavy, Elliot picked up his phone and called Olivia.

* * *

><p><strong>February, 2005 – East Amherst<strong>

Alex felt like she should have known better than to let herself feel happy, because as soon as it felt like things were getting better, everything crumbled.

It was the middle of the work day when the call came in, but Alex pushed back from her desk and stepped outside to talk the call from her mother's doctor. Half an hour later, she was in the car on the way to East Amherst.

It was a heart attack that killed her. Elizabeth felt it coming, felt the sudden heartburn and sweating, felt a rush of pain in her neck and shoulders. She called 911, but died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. After her two heart attacks a little over a year ago, she had made an effort at a heart-healthy lifestyle, but some habits were too hard to give up. She tried and failed several times to quit smoking. She didn't get enough exercise. And the earlier heart attacks had left her heart weakened – left her more vulnerable to a fatal myocardial infarction.

And now Alex stood in the foyer of the house she'd grown up in. She had never felt more alone. The house was dark and silent. Even though the thermostat still held the temperature at a comfortable 72°, Alex was shivering with cold. She was exhausted. She dropped her bag just inside the door, too tired to even carry it upstairs to her room.

Her mother's presence was everywhere. When Alex drew the blinds in the sitting room, she remembered the endless dinner parties her mother had hosted there for her father and his coworkers. As she crossed the dining room, she remembered sitting next to her mom, a seemingly endless mountain of homework spread around her. She remembered the family dinners; the happy, quiet evenings of only Alex and her parents and the busy, loud, chaos whenever visiting cousins were in town. The kitchen brought memories of long evenings, preparing dinner with her mom and sharing a bottle of wine. Alex felt like she _should_ feel something, walking through the house now and knowing that she would never see her mother in this place again. She didn't though. It was still too fresh, too surreal.

Her cell phone rang. Alex glanced down at the screen. _Robert._ "Hi."

"Alex, I'm so sorry. I just heard about your mom. Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?"

Alex shook her head before remembering that he couldn't see her. "No," she said. "No. I'll be fine. The funeral is on Sunday. You'll be there?"

"Of course." Robert paused. "You already made the funeral arrangements? That was fast."

Alex's voice was flat. "Yes." It was better to stay busy. If she slowed down, if she stopped to think, if she let it hit her, it would overwhelm her. Just when she thought that she was getting her life back together, it was all falling apart again.

* * *

><p>The day after the funeral – only four hectic days after Elizabeth's third and final heart attack – Robert found Alex sitting on the floor of an empty house with a box of pictures beside her.<p>

Robert looked around. The movers had stripped the house bare, taking everything Alex had not marked to save and transporting it directly to the Salvation Army. "You've been busy," he commented, settling onto the floor next to her.

Alex's eyes were dry and her face an inscrutable mask. "I see you still have the key Mom gave you."

Robert shrugged. "You haven't been answering your phone. I wanted to make sure you were okay before I head home."

"I'm fine." Her fingers played nervously with the pages of the photo album in her lap.

"I don't know if you're supposed to be fine," Robert said slowly. "I know I wouldn't be."

Alex sighed and leaned her head back. There was a quiet _thunk_ as she hit the wall. "Did you come here for something or do you just like being around to watch when everything falls to pieces?" she said icily.

"I'm here because Elizabeth was like a second mother to me. And because I care about you." What could he say? He couldn't pretend to know how she felt, but he had to do something, say _something_. "What are you looking at?"

"Just old pictures of the family." She flipped through and the album fell open to one page, the spine conditioned by long use to open here. There were four photos, each showing one of Elizabeth's siblings surrounded by their children and grandchildren. The photo of Elizabeth's family seemed empty by comparison – it held only Alex and her parents. The camera had captured a perfect moment in time. Elizabeth's face was alight with laughter, her hair blowing in the unseen breeze. She wore it in a short bob and had large, thick-rimmed glasses that screamed 1980's. John was laughing with her, or perhaps _at_ her. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone and his jacket and tie were only barely within the frame of the camera's gaze, tossed on the ground behind them. Alex, at 16, was making every attempt to look exasperated with her parent's shenanigans, but a hint of a smile played at the corner of her lips.

Robert noted the date, penned under the picture in neat, tight letters. "This was the year your dad died," he said. He couldn't imagine what Alex was going through right now. He still had both his parents still living and, even if something were to happen to one of both of them, he had his brother and sister. Alex didn't have anyone.

Alex's fingers traced lovingly over the picture, hovering over the surface without touching it. "This is the last picture of all of us together," she said. _Only a few months after that picture was taken, everything changed. Icy roads. A drunk driver. A late night coming home from the airport after a business trip. When the police car drove up to their house, with the lights flashing, but the sirens off, Alex knew something was wrong. Elizabeth argued with the officers, insisting they had made a mistake. "Someone must have stolen his car," she insisted. "It wasn't him. It can't be him." It was only after she'd seen the body, after she'd beaten her fists against the glass that separated visitors from the bodies in the morgue, that the truth had sunk in. She fell into a deep depression and for weeks was barely able to get out of bed, leaving her teenage daughter to find her own way to deal with the loss. Alex couldn't cope with carrying her own grief and that of her mother. Less than a month after her father's death, Alex applied for a study abroad program in France. _

"She always wanted a big family," Alex said, as her eyes drifted to the other pictures on the page: Elizabeth's siblings surrounded by their children and grandchildren. "This last year was the first time since college that I haven't heard the 'when are you giving me grandchildren?' lecture every time I walked through the door."

_Elizabeth's granny-lust had set in early, when Alex was only a junior in college. Alex suspected that half the cause was just that Elizabeth was lonely. After being widowed and then her only child leaving for college, it was only natural to want family around and nothing brought a family closer together than grandkids. But Alex's few serious relationships in college and later in Law School had fallen flat, leaving her unmarried and childless when she entered into a career that was essentially guaranteed to eat up every available minute of her life. They had fought about it. Elizabeth was of a generation that still considered that the most important thing a woman could do was marry and have children. While she supported her daughter's career, she didn't like that it came at the expense of a husband and family. And Alex resented the fact that every visit home began with a double question: "how's work going, dear? Are you seeing anyone?" It had caused a rift between them for a while, but about five years ago Elizabeth had finally accepted that Alex was going to live life on her own terms and that meant she might not be getting grandkids any time soon. _

Alex sighed. She and her mother had had their issues over the years – every family does – but no matter what, her mother was always the one she could turn to. And when Alex had come home after being abducted by the cartel, it was her mother more than anyone else who helped her get back on her feet. And Elizabeth had known that asking about future grandchildren – whether jokingly or not – was no longer a topic for discussion.

"At least that's a lecture I've managed to avoid from my folks," Robert quipped. Alex gave no response to his attempt at humor. Sometimes a well-placed joke was helpful, but this was not one of those times.

"Robert, can you just leave?" she said finally. He looked hurt and Alex winced, realizing how rude she sounded. "I'm sorry. Thank you… for coming to mom's funeral. I know it would have meant a lot for her to have you there. And thanks for checking in on me. I just really would rather be alone right now." She was alone, whether he was in the room with her or not. It was slowly sinking in for Alex just how alone she was. Her father was dead. Her mother was dead. She had no siblings to share her grief with. She had no lover to comfort her. She had no one.

She wanted to sob. She wanted to scream. She wanted someone to hold her. She wanted someone in her life who could help take away the pain. But there was no one. She felt empty and totally alone.

"Ok," Robert said, getting to his feet. "Do you want me to hang around for a few days? I can shuffle some appointments and get the time off work?"

Alex shook her head. "No," she replied. "Go on back to Albany. I just need a bit longer to get things settled here and then I'll be coming home." He looked hesitant. "I'll be fine," she insisted. "I'll see you in a few days."

Robert left.

Alex didn't know how long she sat on the floor, holding the family photo albums in her hands and crying, but eventually she managed to pick herself up. She went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was filled to overflowing with countless casseroles that Elizabeth's friends had brought over. Alex wasn't sure why it was a tradition to bake casseroles for someone whenever something bad happened, but that seemed to be the norm among her mother's generation. She couldn't say she minded, though. It had been a rough week and the last thing Alex felt like doing was cooking or going out.

She fixed a plate and popped it in the microwave. As the small machine hummed, Alex turned to the house phone, hung on the wall just inside the kitchen. The red number on the screen told her that the voicemail box was full.

Alex sat down with a pen and paper. She didn't want to listen to the messages – to the endless outpouring of sympathy from friends and neighbors. But etiquette demanded that she – at the very least – listen to who the messages were from so that she could send thank you cards. '_Thank you' for what?_ Alex thought as she started the messages playing. _Thank you for calling to tell me you're sorry that my mother's dead? What sense does that make?_ Still, it was expected of her and Alex knew that all the people calling were important to her mother. It would matter to Elizabeth to see that the proper formalities were observed.

There were calls from all the members of Elizabeth's book club. Calls from neighbors. Calls even from some of John Cabot's old business partners. Alex listened to each message just long enough to jot down their names and then deleted it. She'd have to look up their addresses later. Most of them would be in Elizabeth's address book and the rest she could find online.

Alex had listened to far too many messages – so many, that when she heard one that was different from the rest, she nearly deleted it without noticing. She had her pen and one hand and the left finger poised over the "delete" button. The message started: "Hi Alex, it's Olivia. I know it's been a while, but there's something…" Alex was operating on automatic; she scrawled in her notepad "_Olivia_" and her finger pressed against the "delete" key without even thinking. But she stopped, frozen, as it sunk in that this was not the same sympathy message she had heard a hundred times in the last few days. "…we should talk about." The message continued, "Elliot noticed something weird with one of the cases… and I just wanted to see if you knew anything about it. Anyway, I don't want to get into it in a voicemail. Just call me back? Please? I hope you're doing okay. I, um… well, just call me sometime. Bye."

Alex felt numb. She scratched through Olivia's name on her notepad, to remind herself that this name was not one on the "Thank you" card list. She paused the answering machine, stopping it from going on to the next message. She picked up the phone and then stopped. _I don't even know her phone number_, she realized. She'd gotten a new cell phone after coming home to East Amherst to live with her mother for a while, but that one didn't have any of her old contacts. And Olivia's number had always been unlisted. If she wanted Olivia's phone number, she'd have to call the SVU precinct and ask someone there to give it to her. She put the phone back down. She was too tired, too mentally and emotionally drained to deal with this now. It could wait. It had been more than a year since Alex had talked to Olivia – what harm could a few more days do? Alex circled the scratched out name. _Call back later_, she wrote. Then she turned to a fresh page and pressed "next" to listen to the rest of the voicemails.

* * *

><p><strong>January, 2006 – New York<strong>

Another year passed. Life went on. Emily grew and changed. She toddled through the apartment on fat little feet, marking her territory with sticky hands, crayons, and battered, second-hand toys. Olivia fell into the endless, exhausting life of a single, working mother. There was never a moment's rest; her life these days seemed to be a non-stop trip from one crisis to the next. She had to work and, in order to work, she had to pay for daycare – a yawning expense that swallowed most of her budget. With a child at home, she could not work as many overtime hours as she had at SVU, so her take-home pay had shrunk. Her old apartment was too small for her and Emily to live comfortably, so she had to eat the cost of moving up to a two-bedroom. There were endless medical bills. As with many first-time parents, Emily's every cough and fever made Olivia fret and rush to the doctor's office. Every season seemed to bring something new: flu in the fall and winter, and allergies in the spring and summer. Olivia herself only rarely got sick and it worried her to see how vulnerable Emily was to every little sickness being passed around daycare. Was it just that she was so young? Was it caused by the abuse Olivia had experienced early in the pregnancy? Was it impacted by the medications and treatments she had received after being rescued? Was Olivia just being a paranoid and over-protective first-time mom? Or was it genetic – a weak immune system inherited, not from her mother, but from someone else? Whatever the cause, the trips to the pediatrician or to the pharmacy were frequent, costing in both money and time.

Work was exhausting. When she was first assigned to the anti-terrorism taskforce, Olivia had been excited about it. After 9-11, New York was on constant guard against terror attacks and the NYPD was on the cutting edge of monitoring and tracking potential terrorists. But after more than two years in Computer Crimes, Olivia had yet to catch a single terrorist. Most of what she did consisted of spying on "persons of interest" identified either by Homeland Security or by other NYPD units. She listened to their phone conversations, read their emails, and followed their movements by the digital footprint they left behind. Under the Patriot Act, nobody was certain exactly what the limits were on police authority. Wire-tapping, tailing, and electronic surveillance on immigrants from Muslim countries and even on US citizens all fell within a legal grey area that the NYPD was all too happy to exploit.

At SVU, Olivia always knew what her job was – to protect and serve, to catch the perps and help the victims. Here, there were no perps and victims that she could see – it was mostly just potential perps who were themselves victims of semi-legal stalking by the government. At SVU, every case they lost tore her heart out, but there were always cases that ended in justice being served and those were the moments that Olivia could point to and say, "see – what we do makes a difference." Such moments were non-existent in the anti-terrorism taskforce. Day after day and month after month of cyber-stalking persons of interest turned up nothing – not a single terrorist captured or terror attack thwarted. And the questionable legality of what she was doing left Olivia increasingly disillusioned. There was no joy in her work. There were no moments of triumph or nights of anguish and sorrow. It was just an endless slog – work, home, sleep; work, home, sleep; repeat – with no end or rest in sight.

The only good thing about her constant exhaustion and inability to grab even two minutes of time to have to herself was that it kept her from dwelling on the gaping wound she still felt inside her.

For her entire childhood and most of her adult life, Olivia had watched her mother struggle to cope with the trauma of being raped and of raising a rapist's bastard. It had driven Serena to alcoholism, which in turn created another wedge between the young English professor and her extended family. Burdened with a child, a thankless job in academia, and no family support system, Serena's pain had manifested itself in abuse and neglect toward the one person who was wholly vulnerable to her and who was a symbol of the pain she had suffered – her daughter.

Olivia was determined not to repeat her mother's mistakes. She set a strict limit for herself of no more than a few drinks a week and no more than one a night. She had never had a problem with alcoholism, but it was better to set limits than to tempt fate and fall into the same snare as her mother. On the occasions that Emily cried and cried for no apparent reason, until her ear-splitting wails set Olivia's teeth on edge and made her want to grab the child and shake her until she shut up, Olivia would grit her teeth, put Emily in the crib, and walk away for a few minutes until she could return, calm enough to pick up her daughter with tenderness and a kiss and not with barely restrained frustration.

Whenever Serena had flashbacks or was overwhelmed by the memory of what happened, she hid from them in the bottom of a bottle. When the memories came back to torment Olivia, she allowed herself no such escape. The only relief she had was to close herself in her room and cry until it passed. There was no one she could talk to, no one to help her through the rough patches. The state covered therapy visits for rape victims for a while, but that had run out about six months after Olivia was released from the hospital. Emily's birth brought the nightmares back in full force and Olivia found another, private therapist to go to for a while. But in terms of priority, paying for therapy fell below rent, utilities, daycare, food, medical bills, and a host of other necessary costs. The reality was that at the end of the month, Olivia simply couldn't afford the additional expense. Elliot, Fin, Casey, Munch, Melinda – even Cragen, to a degree, although he would always be in her mind her captain first and her friend second – were good friends, but they had no conception of what had happened in that place and, frankly, Olivia didn't want them too. They all could assume generally what had happened, but Olivia didn't want them to have the specifics in their heads. She didn't want them to look at her and see what had happened to her. So she dealt with it on her own.

The flashbacks became increasingly rare as time went on. Olivia learned to watch for triggers that would bring an onslaught of memories and she avoided them when she could and sought solitude to work through it by herself when she couldn't. Those discreet moments of remembering more than she wanted to were manageable. Far worse was the constant, unceasing rawness, the open wound that never left her. It felt like in raping her, the men had ripped her heart out of her, had cut her soul away from her body and sliced it into ribbons.

She did everything she could to shield her daughter from noticing her flashbacks and nightmares. Sometimes she worried that Emily would see, that Emily would be damaged somehow by seeing her mother's pain. But - and maybe this was childish innocence or maybe Olivia was better at hiding it than she thought - Emily grew up happy and strong while Olivia hid her troubles.

Olivia felt alone, isolated, cut off from everyone around her. Her friends were always around, always willing to support her in anything she needed – and Olivia appreciated their presence – but there was nothing they could do. Olivia didn't know how to even express what she was feeling – that she was broken, crumbled into little pieces and only managed to hold everything together because there was no other choice. She couldn't afford to fall apart. She couldn't afford to just curl up in bed and not get up again, the way she sometimes felt like doing. She couldn't afford to miss work or stop grocery shopping. She had to hold it together because there was nothing and no one to fall back on. So she got out of bed every morning, hugged and kissed her daughter, and did the best she could to give Emily the best home she could. She cried when she needed to and then wiped her face and went to work. She managed to get through each day, one after the other.

* * *

><p><strong>January, 2006 – Albany<strong>

Alex arrived at her new condo only a few hours before the moving van arrived. The modestly-sized 3-bedroom condo in Manhattan was more expensive than she ever would have been able to afford on her own salary, but she had been able to buy it outright and barely put a dent in the inheritance she had received from her parents after Elizabeth's death. Master bedroom. Office. Guest room. Two bathrooms, a large kitchen, and a comfortable living room. In New York City, it felt extravagant for one person to have so much space.

Six weeks ago, Arthur Branch had called out of the blue with a job offer: Homicide Bureau Chief. It was a good position and Alex was excited to get started on it. It would be good to sit in the prosecutor's chair again. She would be in charge of the department, managing anywhere between four and six ADA's. She would report to the DA, but within her Bureau, she would have a wide range of autonomy on what cases to prosecute and what deals to offer. She didn't know any of the people she was going to be working with directly. That was good, though – it meant that she could make a fresh start in the Manhattan DA's office.

Some of the prosecutors in the Homicide Bureau had been there for a while. The Deputy Bureau Chief, Jim Steele, had occupied his current position for more than a decade. When Alex saw that in his personnel file, she couldn't help but ask Branch why he had brought her in rather than promoting Steele. _"Steele's a good attorney," Branch said, "but he's not the best at setting professional boundaries. He gets a little too close to some of the ADAs under his supervision." Alex heard the unspoken warning in Branch's words. She had very little supervisorial experience and Branch was reminding her that as far as the ADAs in her department were concerned, she was there to be their boss, their mentor if they needed it, but not their friend. "It's lonely being the boss," Branch counseled her. "Get used to it." _

Steele had been passed over twice for promotion to Bureau Chief and now that position was being given to an outsider, to someone who had been absent from the DA's office for more than two and a half years. That was sure to leave a chip on his shoulder. Alex sighed. It was her department now and she would find a way to manage whatever came her way.

* * *

><p><strong>May, 2006 – New York<strong>

It had been a slow day at work; Olivia was just about to call it a day and leave to pick up Emily from daycare when a shadow crossed her desk. She looked up. Fin and Elliot stood over her desk. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

Elliot looked tired. Olivia knew him well and she knew the look of an exhausted detective whose case was hitting a dead end. "We need your help," Elliot said.

Fin pulled over a chair and sat down next to Olivia. Elliot remained standing, leaning against a filing cabinet along the wall as they explained their case to her: an abused boy had turned his sexual experience into a business and started his own porn site, with himself as the star. Just before the FBI could arrest him for child pornography, he had been abducted by one of his pedophile customers. As they explained the case, Olivia pulled up the programs she needed. "Of course Morales couldn't track these pedophiles," she said. "He doesn't have the software."

"And you do?" Elliot inquired.

Olivia grinned. "Cutting edge – hot off the press from homeland security." The tracking program she called up far surpassed anything TARU would have access to. Olivia's fingers flew over the keyboard. This kind of work was second nature to her now.

Fin frowned. "Why doesn't every squad get that?"

"Because not every squad is fighting terrorists, who are going digital," Olivia replied. "Traces that used to take an entire day now take under twenty minutes."

It took barely five minutes for her to crack the pedophile's protection protocols and mirror his activity in real time. Computer crimes might not be her dream job, but Olivia couldn't help but take pride in her work, especially when she had the chance to show off a bit in front of her old teammates. "You're really into this," Elliot remarked.

Olivia shrugged. "It pays the bills," she said. "And I haven't seen blood or tears in years."

She couldn't pin down the pedophile's address, but she did get in far enough to see that he had met with one of the other suspects in real life. Elliot was disappointed – he'd expected that Olivia would work some magic with the computer and have the pedophile's location in an instant. "It's another dead end," Elliot said.

"No," Olivia pointed out. "It's something! Look, Dr. Lucas met GoodFriend face to face. Go back to Lucas and get me GoodFriend's email address, other screen names…"

"Our problem is that Dr. Lucas isn't talking to us. At all." Elliot had tried interrogating the MD after they picked him up on suspicion of child pornography earlier that week. Elliot sighed. "Look, you know what might work..." Elliot paused and ran one hand over his jaw. "If you give it a shot..."

Olivia sucked in a deep breath and started to shake her head.

"You're one of the best detectives I've ever met, Liv, and look at this – they've got you working in a box all day." He looked around the cubicle-lined precinct with disdain. Detectives weren't supposed to work in cubicles, they were supposed to be in bullpens, on the streets, out doing things. "You don't belong in here. Come back to the real world. You want to take a crack at this guy?"

Olivia reconsidered. It had been so long since she had actually done any of what she considered "real" police work. Elliot was right. She didn't belong here. She stood and grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair. "Alright," she said as she shrugged her arms through the sleeves. "Since you can't seem to do your job, I guess I'll have to come do it for you," she teased.

* * *

><p>She felt unprepared as she walked into the squadroom of the 1-6. It had been close to three years since she'd worked here and yet very little had changed.<p>

As she walked through the bullpen with Elliot at her side, she realized what bothered her about the room. She stopped a few feet away from her old desk. It was empty, untouched, with a fine layer of dust over the surface. "Your new partner not work out?" she asked.

Elliot made a face. "I've been through four 'new partners'," he said, "and they all sit over there." He pointed to a different desk, in the corner, apart from where Fin, Munch, and Elliot's desks were clustered.

Olivia looked askance at him. "And Cragen's okay with you keeping the empty space?" Elliot shrugged. "I wasn't planning on coming back, you know."

Elliot didn't say anything. He just opened the door to the interrogation room and held it for her while Olivia stepped inside.

* * *

><p><strong>July, 2006 – New York <strong>

The decision to come back to SVU was not one she rushed into. But Elliot's invitation for her to join in on the interrogation of a suspect was just the push that she needed to realize how unhappy she was with her job in the anti-terrorism task force. In early June, just few weeks after Elliot had come to her office asking with help on a case, Olivia found herself in Captain Cragen's office. She went in just to talk, to throw out the idea, but by the time she left, she knew that this was something she needed to do. It was what she had always wanted to do, what she had always trained to do. Working in Computer Crime just wasn't cutting it. She'd become a police officer – she had worked to be the best detective she could be – because she wanted to make a difference in the world. She wasn't making a difference by sitting in her cubicle in front of a computer screen all day. But she could make a difference at SVU.

Neither she nor Cragen said anything to the rest of the squad. Cragen wanted her back, but he wasn't going to transfer out Elliot's current partner just to make room for her. "_None of them have lasted very long, though. And this latest one, Beck, is no different,_" he told her. "_Just wait until she asks to transfer out and then we can bring you back on._" Cragen was right. Detective Dani Beck soon gave up on sex-crimes and requested a transfer. She put in her request on a Thursday and the next Monday morning, at 7am sharp, Olivia walked into the SVU squadroom.

"What are you doing here?" Elliot asked in surprise.

Olivia strode over to her old desk and sat down. "I work here."

* * *

><p><strong>November 29, 2008 – New York<strong>

Alex was terrified, more scared than she had been in years. She could feel her pulse fluttering in her throat. It thundered in her chest, pounding against her ribs, and throbbed in her fingertips. Her whole body vibrated with every pulse.

She had been working up her courage to do this for months and even now, less than a dozen steps from Olivia's door, she felt the urge to pull away, to turn and run. She could walk away now and Olivia would never know she'd been here. It wasn't too late. She'd avoided this for so long. She'd spent two years in Albany, unable to bring herself to return to Manhattan. Even once she'd come back to the City, taking up a job first as the Homicide Bureau Chief and now working in Appeals, she still avoided anything that might bring her in contact with the SVU squad. She'd avoided this moment for so long, surely she could put it off for a little longer. She could walk away now and try again next week, next month, next year…

But Alex pressed on, coming to a stop in front of apartment 4D. She knocked.

When an elderly African-American woman opened the door, Alex stepped back. It had never occurred to her that Olivia might have moved. Olivia had lived in this apartment for more than a dozen years. Alex had just assumed that she would still be here.

"Yes?" The woman peered at her over thick glasses. A gaudy, beaded eyeglass chain looped around her neck, disappearing into the neckline of a pink, ruffled shirt.

"Hi, I'm looking for a woman who used to live here." Alex knew even as she spoke that this wasn't going to work. Nobody in New York knew anything about their neighbors. "Olivia Benson."

The woman frowned, her thin lips nearly disappearing as they pressed together. "That police woman?" she asked. "She's just downstairs. Moved to 3B a year or two back."

"Thanks." If Alex was surprised that the woman knew where the former resident of her apartment now lived, she was even more surprised to hear that Olivia had moved to a new apartment in the same building. Her apartment had been rent-controlled, so moving anywhere else – even in the same building – meant a dramatic jump in cost. If she still felt safe and comfortable in the building, why move at all?

Moments later, Alex found herself face-to-face with the door of apartment 3B. She felt queasy and fought the urge to turn and walk away. In all the time that she had spent mentally preparing herself for this day, she had run through a thousand scenarios of what might happen. She still wasn't sure what to say. She would just have to play it by ear.

* * *

><p>Emily jumped up when she heard the knock at the door. "Uncle El!" she squealed. It was Elliot was taking his kids ice-skating in Central Park. He'd asked Emily a few days ago if she wanted to come too and of course she had jumped at the chance.<p>

"Hang on," Olivia's voice stopped Emily with her hand on the doorknob. "What's the rule about opening the door?"

Emily shrugged. "Not s'possed to," she said. She was wearing her snow boots already - she could pull them on and zip them up by herself now, so Olivia often found her wearing them around the house even when they had no intention of going out. Emily dragged one boot across the floor, scuffing it loudly over the carpet.

"Right," Olivia smiled. She joined her daughter at the door. Emily turned to her expectantly and Olivia placed her hands under the girl's arms and lifted her to the peep-hole. Emily cupped her hands around the peep-hole and leaned into the door. "Is that Uncle Elliot?" asked Olivia.

"Nope." Emily said as her feet met the ground again. "'s a lady."

"What lady?" Olivia straightened and moved to look, but Emily was already turning the doorknob.

Olivia felt the air _whoosh_ out of her lungs. Standing in the hallway, right in front of her, was Alexandra Cabot. She couldn't breathe, her ribs constricted by shock. A lump gathered in her throat. Her eyes locked with Alex's, searching the pale face that had changed little in the five long years since they'd last seen each other. "_Alex._"

Whatever words Alex had planned, whatever thousand permutations of how this conversation might have gone, they all flew out her head. She was frozen, transfixed by the sight of Olivia. The detective's stare bored into her, giving the uncomfortable feeling that she could see into Alex's soul. Alex couldn't hold Olivia's gaze; it hurt too much. Her eyes fell away, landing on the small person at Olivia's side.

Emily didn't know who this woman was, but she felt the electric tension that rippled between the blonde woman in the hallway and her mother. She reached for Olivia's hand, clutching it with both of hers and tucking against her mom's side. At four and a half years old, the top of her head reached almost as high as her mother's waist. Her silky black hair was neatly tied in a thick braid that dangled between her shoulder blades. Beneath the bright, multi-colored wool hat pulled down over her ears, bronze skin gleamed as she tilted her face upward to stare at Alex. Her chocolate, almond-shaped eyes narrowed, bushy eyebrows coming together as she scrutinized this stranger whose arrival had stunned her mother into silence. "Mommy?" she asked, her voice trembling uncertainly. She had never seen her mother so discomfited.

Olivia wrenched her eyes away from Alex and she looked down at Emily. "It's okay," she said, squeezing Emily's hand. The firm set of her daughter's shoulders eased at Olivia's words, reassured by the even tone. "Em, this is Alex; she's an old friend of mine." She looked up at Alex's stunned expression. "Alex, my daughter – Emily Alexandra Benson."

The resemblance was clear. In the thin shoulders, long arms and lanky legs, Alex could see the reflection of Olivia's build and Olivia's confident stance. Emily had her mother's expressive, inquisitive eyes and her mother's mouth. And there were other traits, traits that were not Olivia's: the narrow face and angular chin, the Romanesque nose and low, dark, Kahlo eyebrows. Those came from another genetic line.

"Emily Alexandra…" Alex repeated, stunned. She held out her hand to the little girl. "It's very nice to meet you."

Emily dropped her mother's hand and reached forward to shake Alex's. Most children avoided meeting adults' eyes. Most children stared at the ground or off to the side when they spoke to grown-ups. Emily was not most children. She looked Alex full in the face, confident, measuring, her head cocked to one side. "Hi."

Olivia squeezed her daughter's shoulder. "Hey, Em, how 'bout you go play in your room 'til Uncle Elliot gets here? Alex and I need to have a grown-up talk."

Emily shrugged. "'K."

Her daughter gone, Olivia turned her full attention back to Alex. The blonde woman was still standing in the hallway, bundled against the winter cold in her sleek, expensive coat. Olivia stayed planted in the open doorway, leaning against the frame with one shoulder, her arms crossed over her chest.

Alex shifted uncomfortably under Olivia's scrutiny. She was reeling from the discovery that Olivia had a daughter. A daughter named Alexandra. A daughter who looked to be about four or five years old. In five years of trying to get her own life together, trying to fight her own battles, she had often wondered how Olivia was doing. But she had never considered the possibility that Olivia might have a child. "Can I come in?" she asked.

Olivia took a deep breath. "Alex," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought we should talk."

"Five years, Alex. After _five years_ you show up saying we should talk?" Olivia couldn't hold back the heat in her voice, the biting anger born in years of loneliness. "Really? For five years, you don't return my calls, you don't email. You've been back in Manhattan for almost three years now and I had to hear about it through Casey Novak that you'd come back to the DA's office."

"Olivia, I'm sorry." Her blue eyes glistened. "I know I should have…"

"_Why_, Alex? Just tell me why."

"I don't know." Her voice cracked over the words. After five years of running from this, from everything that had happened – after four years of rising in her career, carefully garnering a reputation as the Ice Queen, untouched and untouchable by everything around her – this is where she stood: alone in the hallway of an old downtown apartment building, begging for a second chance. "I didn't know what to do. I was scared," she confessed. It was a pitifully inadequate excuse and she knew it. "So I ran," she finished.

It took a minute – a tense, silent minute – before Olivia straightened. Without a word, she turned and walked back into her apartment, leaving the door open behind her. Alex hovered, hesitant, at the threshold. "Come on in," Olivia called over her shoulder. "Let's talk."

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimers:<br>**- I don't own the Ray Brook Federal Correctional factility  
>- NYPD does have an anti-terrorism task force, but I think it's called the Joint Terrorism Taskforce (nypd working jointly with homeland security and other agencies). I don't own that either.<br>- I quoted some lines directly from the L&O SVU episode "Web." I don't own that (sensing a recurring theme yet?)  
>- I can't remember if I put anything else owned by other people in this chapter. If you recognize it, I don't own it. Does that suffice to cover my tush?<p> 


	35. Reunion

Olivia's apartment felt small and cramped compared to Alex's downtown condo. But where Alex's condo was a clean, neatly organized, sterile environment, Olivia's apartment was a home. The refrigerator was covered with Emily's drawings from preschool and the magnetic letters at the base of the fridge had several simple words spelled out: "cat," "dog," "Emily," "Mommy" and "cat" again. Dishes piled high in the sink and Alex spotted a couple empty boxes of Mac & Cheese peeking out of the top of the garbage can. There was a small dining table with only two chairs. On top of the table, a stack of coloring books leaned against the wall next to an NYPD coffee mug filled with crayons.

The living room was clean, but in the hastily-tidied way of a family that didn't really have time to clean. A plastic bin next to the couch was filled to the brim with toys and there was a stuffed hippo on the couch with a gaudy red-and-white Santa hat tied to its head. A plaster cast of Emily's hand was propped up on top shelf of the TV stand; underneath the handprint, Olivia had labeled it: "Emily, 4 yrs old." There was a small desk in one corner, with just enough room on the surface for Olivia's old laptop and a mouse. Next to the desk was a filing cabinet, each drawer securely locked with a padlock that wrapped around the side of the metal container.

Olivia stepped into the kitchen, waving Alex toward the couch. "Sit," she said. Alex shrugged off her coat and sat next to the hat-wearing hippo. She had to consciously refrain from twisting her hands. She wished she had something to do with her hands to hide her nervousness. That wish was granted when Olivia returned from the kitchen a moment later and shoved a coffee mug into Alex's hands.

Olivia didn't sit on the couch next to Alex. Instead she pulled over a straight-backed dining chair from the breakfast nook and sat with her back toward the TV, facing Alex. She raised her eyebrows and waited. Alex was the one who had disappeared. Alex was the one who vanished for five years without a word. Alex was the one who had refused her phone calls, who had never made any attempt at contacting her. Alex was the one who had initiated this visit. As far as she was concerned, Alex should be the one to start the conversation.

Alex raised the mug to her lips and took a slow sip. The coffee was sweet. After five years, the detective still remembered that Alex took her coffee with ungodly amounts of sugar. That small gesture, that tiny reminder of how well they knew each other made Alex's eyes sting. She didn't lower her cup, but held it in both hands, the warm rim pressing against her lips. It helped to hide her expression, to shield her anxiety. "You have a daughter," she observed. It wasn't what she had planned to say, but that shocking, new knowledge had stunned away anything else on her mind.

"Yes." Olivia glanced over her shoulder. The room to Emily's door was closed and she could hear music playing. Olivia sipped at her own coffee. Like Alex, she too kept the cup raised in an unconscious, defensive gesture to guard her emotions.

"You named her after me?" Alex's voice cracked.

Olivia was good at hiding her reactions. To a casual observer, her expression was inscrutable. But Alex saw something in her eyes – sadness? Pity? Regret? Maybe a little of each. "I thought you would be coming back."

The words were kindly said, but Alex felt the condemnation like a blow to the chest. "How old is she?" she asked.

Olivia nodded at the plaster handprint a few feet away. "She turned four in July."

Alex didn't know what to say. Olivia had been pregnant when they were rescued. Alex had had her suspicions, of course, while they were trapped, but she had never known for sure. Even if she had known, she would have assumed that Olivia would opt for an abortion or given the baby up for adoption. She never would have guessed that Olivia would decide to keep the child. July. Seven months after they were rescued, Olivia had had a child. While Alex was safe and comfortable in East Amherst at her mother's house, getting ready for a new job and trying to move on with her life, Olivia was giving birth and naming her daughter with the hope that Alex would come back, that Alex hadn't abandoned her completely.

"I'm sorry." Alex set her coffee mug down. There were no coasters on the coffee table and the wood was stained with so many rings that Alex didn't worry about looking around to find one. "I should have been there for you."

Olivia said nothing. Her silence spoke volumes: _Yes. You should have been here._

"I'm sorry," Alex repeated.

"You left me, Alex," Olivia said. "And I called and called and you ignored me. And then I stopped calling, but I kept telling myself that eventually you'd call. Eventually you'd write. Eventually you'd come back. But you never did."

"I'm here now." Olivia just looked at her and Alex's heart sank. _Too late. It's much too late._

"Yes," Olivia said slowly. "You are. I'm just not sure why."

There was another knock. Alex jumped at the sound. Emily's bedroom door opened and her head popped out. "Is _that_ Uncle El?" she asked.

Olivia set her coffee aside and got to her feet. "Let's go check." Emily raced to the door and jumped up, trying to see out the peep-hole until Olivia lifted her up. "That him?"

"Yep," answered Emily.

"'Yes'," Olivia corrected automatically. Emily unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door, jumping out to wrap her arms around Elliot in a hug. Dickie and Lizzie, now fifteen years old, lurked in the hallway behind their dad. Eli was thoroughly bundled and tucked into a front baby carrier, his legs dangling against Elliot's chest.

"Hey, Em. You ready to go skating?" Elliot hugged her.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Emily jumped up.

"Go get your coat then," Elliot said, stepping into the apartment. He spotted Alex sitting on the couch and did a double take. His eyes shot to Olivia, who shrugged. As Emily ran back into her bedroom to get her coat, Elliot sidled close to Olivia. "Everything alright?" he asked. "What's Cabot doing here?"

"Yeah," Olivia replied. "We just have a lot to catch up on."

Elliot pursed his lips. Unlike Alex, he had been here in all the long intervening years. And although Olivia rarely talked about it, he knew how much it hurt her that Alex had abandoned her after they were rescued.

Emily reappeared with her coat and Olivia knelt to help her button it. "You have your gloves?" she asked. Emily reached into her coat pocket and pulled them out. "Okay." Olivia kissed Emily's head and adjusted her scarf. "Have fun and be careful."

"I will," Emily promised, wiggling out of her mom's hug and slipping into the hallway to join Dickie and Lizzie.

"Alright, let's go," Elliot said, turning toward the stairway. "Maybe your mom will even let me take you out for pizza after," he said to Emily as he gave Olivia a wink.

"That sounds fine," Olivia said in response to Emily's begging eyes. _Thank you_, she mouthed to Elliot. She suspected that this afternoon was going to be an emotional rollercoaster and having Emily out of the house would give her a little space to deal with it.

Once they were gone, Olivia closed the door and leaned back against it, her eyes closed and her arm wrapped across her chest.

Alex shifted uncomfortably on the couch. It was strange to see Olivia in a domestic, maternal role. It was a reminder of how much their lives had changed in the past five years. "Maybe I shouldn't have come," Alex said softly. She gathered her coat into her arms and stood. "I can go, if you'd rather. I _am_ sorry, Liv, for everything."

Olivia shook her head. "No. Stay." Alex sat back down and Olivia left the doorway to sit on the couch next to her. Olivia took a deep breath and sighed. "It's been a long time," she said. "I'm not even sure what to say anymore."

"Me neither," Alex said. "I, um, I kept meaning to come back, or at least to call." She took a deep breath and continued on, trying to explain. She hadn't _meant_ to go so long without calling. It had just happened. The more time that passed, the guiltier she felt for not calling. And the guiltier she felt, the less she wanted to call and face her own cowardice in having run away for so long. "For the first year or so, all I wanted was to get as far away from everything as possible. And then after that, I was trying to get my life back together and move on. So I just kept putting it off. It was always _maybe tomorrow_, _next week_, _next month_. And the longer I avoided it, the more excuses I came up with to keep putting it off."

"But you came back to Manhattan. And you still didn't call." That had hurt more than anything else. Olivia could understand needing to get away. If she hadn't been pregnant, if she'd had family somewhere to go to, if she'd had the money to walk away from work for a while, she might have done the same thing. But it was the fact that Alex had come back to the city, had worked in the DA's office less than a dozen blocks from Olivia's precinct, had tried cases in the courthouse where Olivia had so often testified – that she had been so close and had never even made an effort to contact Olivia – that was what hurt most of all.

"I know." Alex looked abashed. She was tempted to say that Olivia could have tried to contact her, but she didn't. She was the one who had left. It was her responsibility to make the first overture.

"Why not?" Olivia still remembered the day – not long before she started back at SVU – that she'd gone to Casey's office to meet her for lunch and had overheard the ADA talking about it with another coworker. She couldn't remember the exact conversation or even who Casey had been talking to. She couldn't even remember making it from the hallway outside Casey's office to the women's restroom before bursting into tears. But she did remember Casey finding her there, a wad of tear-soaked paper towels crumpled on the sink next to her.

"_I'm sorry, Liv," Casey said, stepping into the bathroom and locking the door behind her. There weren't many women who worked on her floor and if any of them needed the restroom right now, they would just have to find a different one. "I didn't know. I don't usually work with anyone in Homicide, so I didn't hear about it until now." _

"_How long?" asked Olivia. _

"_I checked with Branch; he gave her the Bureau about five months ago." _

_Olivia leaned over the sink with the water still running. Her fingers curled around the edges of the porcelain basin as her head hung down. For most of her life, she'd been alone. She had taken care of herself because she'd had to. For a brief while, she thought she had someone else she could trust, someone she could rely on. For a brief while, they had leaned on each other, taken care of each other, and protected each other. But as soon as they were free – as soon as their survival was no longer dependent on them being together – Alex had vanished without a word. And Olivia had learned again the bitter lesson that she had to depend on herself and only herself. She cupped some water in her hands and splashed her face, washing away her tears._

"_Do you want to go see her?" Casey asked. "I can go with you if you want." Casey half hoped that Olivia would take her up on this – she had a few choice words of her own for the woman who had left Olivia in a hospital, pregnant and with a fresh bullet wound._

"_No," Olivia shook her head. "No, if Alex wanted to see me, she would have said something. She's made it pretty clear she doesn't want…" her voice trailed off. She couldn't even bring herself to finish the sentence. Olivia reached for a new paper towel and wiped her face dry. "No," she said again. "No, I'm fine."_

Alex was at a loss for words. "I don't know," she whispered, her eyes dropping to her lap. "I just couldn't."

Olivia stood and walked to the window. She leaned against the frame and stared out. Her apartment was on the front corner of the building, so the living room window had a view across the street. The view from her bedroom window looked straight out at the brick wall of the building next door, with only a thin alley to separate the two buildings. The afternoon sky was grey and held a promise of snow later that night. The snow on the ground had mostly turned to slush on the city streets, but was still white and pristine on the treetops that lined the street. Tears stung at her eyes and Olivia blinked them back. She could see her reflection in the glass and wondered if Alex could to – if Alex could see that she was only looking out the window to hide her emotions.

Maybe she did, because Alex came to join her at the window. They stood there together, barely two feet from each other, but with an impossibly wide gulf between them.

"When you left…" Olivia began slowly, "it tore me to pieces. I wanted you back, more than anything. I was scared. I was pregnant. I didn't know what to do. It was six weeks before I could even leave the hospital and start outpatient therapy. I had to go back to work as soon as I was out of the hospital because I needed the money. Every day, all I could do was just hope that maybe you'd come back – that maybe I wouldn't have to do it all alone."

"Liv, I'm so sorry." Alex reached a hand out to touch Olivia on the shoulder, but Olivia turned away, her eyes flashing angrily.

"Don't," she warned.

Alex pulled back. Once, they had both been free to comfort each other, but that was a long time ago.

"But I got through it. And I stopped waiting for the phone to ring. I stopped waiting for you to show up." _Well, that was partly true,_ Olivia thought. _I stopped expecting you to show up, but I never stopped hoping for it._ "I took care of myself. I took care of my daughter. I got my life back together and I've moved on." _Mostly_. "And now you show up on my doorstep and I don't know what you want from me. I don't know why you're here, why – after all this time – you've finally decided to care."

Her words were like a dagger to Alex's heart. "I've always cared," she said.

Olivia didn't respond. She wrapped her arms tighter across her chest and hugged herself as she gazed out the window. "Why did you come back?" she whispered. "I was doing fine." She couldn't hold the tears back anymore and they slipped down her cheeks in straight, salty trails. Her voice didn't change. She didn't cover her face. She just let the tears fall as she spoke. "I was doing just fine," she repeated. She wasn't doing fine. And she knew that; she'd always known that. She managed to pretend most of the time – pretend that she'd moved on and put the past behind her. If she could just pretend that everything was alright for long enough, she sometimes managed to fool even herself. "It's been five years, you know. I've moved on." She hadn't. Five years did little to dull the pain. She was haunted by the memories. Memories of rape. Memories of abuse. Memories of imprisonment and torture and fear and anguish. She'd learned to cope. She'd learned to go on with her daily life. She even managed to go back to SVU and work to get justice for other victims. Helping other victims find closure was a salve on her old wounds. Bringing rapists and abusers to justice did something to ease the pain of knowing that most of her abusers would never be punished for what they did to her. "I've moved on, Alex," she said. "I have a life. I have a daughter. I don't want to revisit the past. I can't do that. So if that's what you're here for, just leave."

Alex didn't know how to respond to that immediately. _Was_ that what she had come for? To find relief from her own pain that still lurked beneath the public facade? To assuage her guilt over leaving? She didn't know. "I'm here for you," Alex said after a moment, "if you'll let me be." _It took me long enough, but I'm here now – where I should have been all along._

Olivia took a deep breath and wiped the tears off her face with a swipe of her hand. She stepped back from the window and sank onto the couch, taking Emily's Christmas hippo and turning it in her hands. Through all the loneliness, all the sorrow, even her bitterness that Alex had left her, she had never stopped wishing for Alex to come back. And now here she was and Olivia had no idea where they were supposed to go from here. "I've missed you," Olivia said.

Alex sat on the couch next to her – close, but not touching. "I've missed you too," she answered. She wanted to reach out, wanted to take Olivia's hand. She wanted to say that they were in this together. But the time for that conversation was five years past. In the last five years, they had both sought healing in their own ways. They had rebuilt their lives and done their best to move on. They'd learned to deal with the nightmares and flashbacks and memories, and to work through them. Their lives had changed – _they _had changed. They didn't need each other the way they once had. But that didn't mean that there was no room for one another in their lives. "I'm sorry it took me so long to come back."

* * *

><p>The afternoon stretched on and it grew dark outside as Alex and Olivia sat and talked. Elliot texted to let Olivia know when they left the ice skating ring and then again about an hour later to say that they were done with pizza and on the way back to her apartment.<p>

When she got that second text, Olivia told Alex it was time to go. She needed a few minutes alone before her daughter came home. And she had seen Elliot's disapproving expression when he saw Alex earlier; she knew he would have questions and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to answer them.

They were at the door now. Alex pulled her coat on. The winter wind outside was fierce and the snowflakes they could see beginning to fall outside the window were driven sideways ahead of each gust. Alex stopped in the doorway. She didn't know how to say good-bye. A hug seemed out of place and she didn't want to discomfit Olivia. But just walking away didn't feel right either. "Emily seems like a sweet kid," Alex said as she stepped out into the hall. "I'd like to get to know her." There was an unspoken undercurrent to her words that they both heard: _Will you let me be part of your life?_ _Can we give it a try?_

"She is," Olivia said with a small smile. "And I think she'd like that." _Yes_, was the unsaid answer.


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer: **This chapter quotes a lot from the season 10 episode "PTSD," which I have appropriated here for my own purposes. I don't own it. I don't profit from it.

* * *

><p><strong>December 2, 2008<strong>

_She was lying in bed with Alex, inside their prison made of three concrete walls and a chain-link fence. In here, at least, they were safe. The moment they crossed outside of the fence, they were at the mercy of the men who tormented them. But here, in their prison, in their cell, in their home, they were safe. Olivia didn't want to move. She wanted to stay here, warm and safe, next to Alex. She wanted to just close her eyes and forget everything that had ever happened outside this room – it hurt too much to remember the freedom of the outside world that was lost to her know and she just didn't want to think about the abuse that she suffered every time she walked past that gate. _

_A child was screaming. That wasn't a sound Olivia could ever ignore, no matter how tired she was, no matter how much pain she was in. She dragged herself up out of bed, leaving the warmth of Alex's arms around her. _

_There was another scream of terror. Olivia knew that voice and her heart leapt into her throat. _Emily. _Olivia flew to the gate, her eyes searching the darkness outside their cell. "Emily!" she screamed. _

"_Mommy!" a thin, terrified voice called back. "Help!" _

_Olivia couldn't see anything beyond the gate. She seized the fence with both hands, tearing at it as if she could rip her way through by sheer force of will. The metal rattled but did not give. "Let her go," she screamed. "Don't you touch her – don't you dare touch her. You bastards, I'll kill you!" _

_Then the figures on the other side of the fence came closer and Olivia could see them. Rafael Zapata. Raul Sepulveda. Emily. Her heart twisted in her chest to see Emily there. Tears ran down the child's face. Zapata held her by the neck of her sweater, but Emily wrenched away and ran to her mother at the gate. Olivia lowered herself down to eye-level with Emily and forced her arms through the fence, reaching out to her daughter. The metal sliced into her arms and blood ran down to her fingertips as she wrapped her arms around Emily and held her close. "Emily, sweetie, it's alright. I'm not going to let anything hurt you. I promise," she swore fiercely. _

"_Don't make promises you can't keep," Raul mocked cruelly. _

_Olivia felt a rush of fear. Her anger wouldn't help her here. Her hate would do nothing to protect her daughter. She was helpless again, at the mercy of men who took joy in inflicting pain and leveraging their victims' love for each other. She was powerless to protect Emily, to protect Alex, to protect herself. _

Olivia woke at 2:13am. Her chest hurt and her heart was racing. She couldn't breathe. She tumbled out of bed. Her stomach roiled, churning violently with every step. _Panic attack_. Knowing what it was did nothing to help alleviate the symptoms. Her hands felt numb and she gasped for air. She got to her feet, her legs shaking under her. She didn't feel steady enough to stand, but she did it anyway. _Emily_. She had to keep one hand on the wall for balance as she made her way to Emily's room. The nightlight in the hallway cast a soft glow into the bedroom when she opened the door.

Emily was curled on her side, her wet thumb inches from her mouth. She had mostly stopped sucking her thumb last year, but sometimes still did it in her sleep. She was a heavy sleeper and didn't stir when the door opened. Olivia staggered into the room and dropped to her knees beside Emily's bed. Olivia stroked her hair back over her ear and cupped her face. "It's ok," she whispered. "It's alright, sweetheart, you're safe. We're both safe." She could feel her pulse slowly return to normal. Seeing that her daughter was safe helped more than anything else after her panic attacks.

By the time she was calm enough to stand steadily, it was after 3am. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep – she had to be up in two hours anyway.

After Alex's visit, the nightmares had returned with a vengeance. Alex's presence triggered the memories that still lurked in Olivia's mind and those memories fused with Olivia's worst fears – fears that the crimes she faced every day would find their way into her home and harm her daughter. Between the cases she faced every day and the memories that Alex's return had dredged up, there were plenty of horrors to fuel her nightmares. Every night, the random synapse firings of her tired brain came up with new and creative ways to torture her. Some nights it was with the memory of a case. Some nights, memories of the warehouse. Other nights, everything melded together. The only thing consistent throughout was Olivia's terrifying helplessness to intervene as Emily or Alex, or both were threatened in front of her.

She hadn't managed to sleep through the night even once since seeing Alex a few days before. It was costing her at work – there was only so long she could go on three hours of sleep or less a night before it started to show.

* * *

><p>Olivia dropped Emily off at daycare and got on the subway to work. The case they were working was a difficult one. It was hard for everyone in the squad to deal with, but particularly so for Olivia.<p>

A Marine named Jessie Crewes was raped and impregnated seven months ago in Iraq. The military did nothing to investigate or prosecute her rapist and, when she returned to the United States, she went AWOL to seek therapy and care for her soon-to-be-born child, whom she had decided to keep.

Her rapist tracked Jessie to New York. He stalked her. He cornered her. He attacked her. He cut her unborn child out of her womb. And then he murdered her and stuffed her body in the trunk of her car.

Since coming back to SVU, Olivia had struggled to keep her emotions in check. She managed, for the most part, although some cases were more difficult than others. This one hit a little close to home. Jessie had decided to carry her baby to term, had decided to keep her child, despite its violent conception. Olivia knew well what kind of strength that took. But Jessie's rapist hadn't been satisfied with raping her. He wasn't satisfied with destroying her career. He followed her home and – just when she thought she was safe – he slaughtered her and her child both.

By the time Olivia arrived at the precinct, Fin and Munch had already found a lead; Master Sgt. Dominic Pruitt had served with her in Iraq and was seen arguing with her outside her apartment. They tracked his credit card to a hotel in midtown and Fin and Olivia went to bring him in.

When they arrived on scene, they could hear the sound of fighting. Olivia raced ahead of her partner and used the hotel's master key to open the door. Pruitt was fighting with another man; the two grappled on the ground for a knife – the same kind of military-issue K-bar that was used to murder Jessie. Olivia stepped in to break it up. Pruitt drew back to throw a punch at the man on the ground beneath him.

His elbow slammed Olivia in the ribs and threw her backward. She fell back into the wall and her head cracked against a glass picture frame.

The world slowed. All she could hear was the sound of fists falling on flesh and her own shaky gasps.

_Zapata was there._

She got to her feet.

_He ordered his men to beat her. Olivia screamed in agony._

She stepped forward.

_Alex was crying, begging for him to stop._

She slid aside the holster strap.

_He wouldn't stop. He threw Alex to the ground._

She drew her gun.

_Olivia struggled, but couldn't get free._

Step forward.

_She couldn't stop him. She couldn't protect Alex._

Aim.

_She was helpless._

Step forward.

The gun in her hand was solid. Real. _Click._

Fin's voice filtered through the haze that filled her mind. "Liv, are you okay?" The sound echoed in her ears. Sweat poured down her face. "Can you hear me?"

Olivia's eyes snapped to him, her gaze wild and terrified. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know what she was doing. She glanced around, her eyes darting over the room, trying to get a fix on the situation. Nothing made sense. Nothing seemed real. Her gun was cocked, the safety off, the muzzle pressed against the back of Pruitt's head. He was stock-still, on his knees, with his hands in the air.

"Easy," Fin soothed, "easy." He eased closer, reaching with one hand to guide her gun away from the back of Pruitt's head. "Easy," he whispered again.

"I'm sorry," Olivia gasped. The room was spinning around her and she felt sick. She couldn't remember where she was or why she was there. She didn't know what she was doing.

A woman burst into the hotel room. "What the hell is going on here?" she screeched.

"Stay right there, ma'am," Fin ordered.

"That's my husband, Gary. He needs help!" The woman pushed her way into the room, moving toward the man Pruitt had attacked. Gary was on the ground, holding his arm. He would need medical attention, but it could wait.

"I said don't move!" barked Fin. His first priority was his partner's safety and he needed to keep the situation calm if he wanted to help Olivia. The woman froze and Fin breathed a little easier. Nobody was moving. This situation was stable. And he would keep it on hold until he knew Olivia was alright.

Fin held one hand out to Olivia, palm open and non-threatening. With his other hand, he still held his gun on Pruitt and Gary, neither of whom had shown any sign of moving since Olivia first pulled her gun. "Take your time," he instructed Olivia. "Feel your feet on the ground. Breathe."

Everything was slowly coming back to her. "I'm alright," she whispered, unsure whether that was actually true. "I'm alright." She holstered her gun.

Fin stepped forward, twisted Pruitt's arms behind his back and handcuffed him. "Get up," he said. "You're coming with us.

* * *

><p>Later, at the precinct, Fin caught up with her. Olivia could see by his expression what was on his mind. "I'm fine, Fin," she preempted.<p>

"You held your gun to the back of a man's head. Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?"

Olivia stared at him in disbelief. "You reported me?"

"No," Fin reassured her. "I'm talking about you getting your head together."

Olivia let out a breath of relief. He hadn't reported her for pulling the gun on Pruitt. She wouldn't lose her job over this mistake. "I am working on it," she replied. It was a brush off and they both knew it.

"Are you? You're here all day and whenever you're not here, you're at home with Emily. You're running yourself ragged. When do you take care of yourself?" he asked. "You need to talk to someone."

Olivia pressed her lips together tightly and nodded. He was right. She knew he was right. But she didn't want to have this conversation. She wanted to go interrogate Pruitt and nail his ass for rape and murder. She wanted everyone to know him for the monster he was. That was how she coped. That was how she got through. She couldn't do anything to change what had happened to her, but she could make sure that other criminals paid for their crimes.

Fin lowered his voice. "What's going on, Liv?" he asked in concern. For two and a half years she'd been back at SVU, and this was the first time he'd seen her lose it, seen her suffer an overwhelming flashback while on the job. He knew that PTSD could come and go over the years, but major resurgences were often brought on by triggers. "Is there something bothering you? Or someone? Is there anything I can do to help?"

Olivia shook her head. "Yes… no," she stumbled. "It's just… Alex came to my apartment a few nights ago," she explained.

"Are you alright?" Fin whispered, well aware that they were still standing in the middle of the precinct and not wanting others to overhear. Now he could understand why Olivia had been having such a hard time of it the past few days. Having Alex Cabot reappear in her life after all this time seemed guaranteed to bring up bad memories.

"Yeah," Olivia replied. "I haven't … I just haven't seen her since I was in the hospital. It, um, it's thrown me off a bit."

Fin looked at her hard. "Take care of yourself, okay? And seriously – you probably should be talking to someone. Not the department shrink, not unless you want everything in your jacket, but someone."

"I don't know if I can," Olivia said. _I don't have the money. I don't have the time. I'm already paying so much for daycare – I can't afford to get a babysitter to watch Em while I sit around getting my head examined. It might do some good to talk to a shrink, but it's just not feasible right now. _"I'll give it another try, though."

"You're not alone, Liv," Fin said. "You don't have to do this alone If you need time to yourself, to talk to a shrink, to straighten things out with Alex – whatever you need – call me. Call Elliot. Call Casey. Call any of us. We'll watch Emily for you or do whatever you need us to do to help you. But you've got to get this worked out."

* * *

><p><strong>December 11, 2008<strong>

They closed the case about a week later. Olivia's initial assumptions were wrong: Pruitt was not the rapist. He actually was what he said he was – a friend who had tried his best to support Jessie after she was raped. The man he had attacked in the hotel room, Lt. Gary Rosten, was the rapist who abused Jessie in-theater and followed her to New York after their tour was over to make sure that the evidence – the baby she carried – was destroyed.

Olivia was ready to leave, to pick up Emily from daycare, take her home, and give her a hug. But just as she was getting ready to head out for the evening, Cragen stopped her. "Olivia!" he called, catching her attention. "I want you to take some personal time off," he stated.

"Why?" Olivia asked. Fin hadn't said anything. He'd promised he wouldn't say anything about what had happened.

But whether Fin had said anything or not, Cragen seemed to know anyway. "You know why. Just do it."

"Is that an order, Captain?"

"No." Cragen paused. "If it was, I'd have to make a notation in your jacket."

"How much time should I take off?" she asked

"As much as you need," he replied. "Relax. Enjoy the holidays with Em. Come back when you're ready."

Olivia turned, picked up her jacket and purse, and headed for the door. _Great, _she thought. _Just what I need._ She often relied on at least five or more hours of overtime every week just to make ends meet. She'd still get her regular, salaried paycheck while she was using her personal days, but the extra money from overtime would be sorely missed.

* * *

><p>She was on her way out of the precinct when she ran into Master Sgt. Pruitt.<p>

"Commander Marcus said you wanted to see me, ma'am," Pruitt said as he approached her.

"It's Olivia," she corrected. He looked so different now that she knew he was innocent. Before, she had seen only a monster. A rapist and a murderer. Now, seeing him in full uniform, standing free, confident, and innocent, he seemed an entirely different person. "And… I wanted to apologize."

Pruitt smiled. "For what? You did your job and got justice for Jessie."

"I don't get you at all." Olivia shook her head. She had locked him up. She'd grilled him like a perp. She'd rushed to judgment and he had been locked up and dragged through court proceedings because of it. "I don't even know what to say to you."

"I knew my DNA wouldn't match," he said. "I told you – I didn't have sex with her."

"You just looked out for her." He had been Jessie's friend. He'd protected her as best he could. And after she was murdered, he had gone after the perpetrator.

"A marine in my unit got attacked by her superior officer. She was in trouble and needed help. _That's my job_," he insisted.

"Why didn't you go to your CO?" Olivia asked. If the rapist had been caught and charged in Iraq, he never would have had a chance to follow Jessie to New York. Jessie would still be alive. Her baby would still be alive.

"Accusing an officer without proof will land you in the brig," Pruitt stated matter-of-factly. "That's why I went after him. Either he'd confess or he wouldn't be coming back from his next deployment."

"Would you have killed him?" Olivia asked. When she and Fin had burst into that hotel room, it certainly looked like they were fighting to the end.

Pruitt's only answer was another question. "Would you have shot me?"

The question took her aback. She felt an answer jump to her lips, but stopped. Her gut reaction said one thing, but she didn't think that it was possible to give such a simple answer. When she finally spoke, her words were slow and quiet. "I can't answer that," she said. "And you deserve to know why." She had never brought this up at work before. She had never shared it with a victim. Never mentioned it in front of a suspect. Even the few conversations she had with her friends, with her squadmates, usually took place outside the precinct – outside the context of their work. But she felt that she could tell Pruitt. "I was abducted… It was years ago, but sometimes it doesn't feel like all that long. I was held prisoner for more than two months. I have a daughter now and I don't know or want to know who fathered her. And I still haven't figured out how to cope with all of that."

Pruitt fell quiet for a moment, thinking. "I'm from a military family – dad, granddad, uncles, cousins… My dad was a POW in Korea. He reenlisted and went back for Vietnam. He had some rough spots. But he worked on it and the men in his unit understood and helped him where they could. He got through it." He paused. "What happened to you… what happened to Jessie… there's a war going on there too, just nobody wants to see it. So maybe you were a POW of _that_ war. It makes it hard. But it doesn't mean that you have to leave the service. It doesn't mean that you can't make a difference. Bad days happen – they're gonna happen. But there's good days too. So focus on those and quit kicking yourself."

Olivia didn't know quite what to say. "That's easy to say and hard to do."

"It takes practice," said Pruitt. "You'll get there."

* * *

><p>As Olivia walked toward the subway station, she called Alex. "Hey, Alex. I know I said I was probably going to be busy for a while, but we ended up wrapping up that case I was working on. And I managed to get myself unofficially suspended. So I have some free time for the next couple weeks, if you're interested... Anyway, just give me a call."<p> 


End file.
